Mars Hotel
2001-08-23 21:18:57 (UTC)

Moving On

"I love you"--
the last words I hear

Already bawling,
it's what I needed to hear

Yet already bawling,
it makes my insides churn
out of sadness

You are but one hundred miles
but I feel you are one thousand.

Once you were only twenty
yet now you exist in my life
only in my thoughts and memories:
Of when we drifted along Lookout Creek
and heard dinosaurs in the background.
Of camping with cow noises
but a mere five miles away,
sounding as close as the crickets beside us.
Of the five o'clock talk
with the sprinker rapist in the woods.

How do people expect me to move on?
How CAN people expect me to find another best friend?

I'm afraid I involuntarily refuse
and must accept the consequences.