We are not friends.
I doubt if we, have ever been
or could be,
now.
My love has turned cold
all ice and gin flowing through my veins
soon made warm by
another.
Time melts away rose coloured reason
illuminating drops of truth.
that let me see, without regret
How illusions made warm enough bedfellows.
How seemingly honest smiles, masked
a selfish heart.
so careless with mine and has willingly
forgotten me.
Forgotten, we.
We are not friends.
I carve this into wintry caves
so one summer day could dissipate
the iceberg of hate
built by memories that construct such harsh descriptions
of love.
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