Why is it
one can absorb the changes;
one cannot?
One and one make two –
only sometimes.
At others, one and one
make one and
one other.
Ideally
when love is full,
one and one make one –
becoming one, being
united
whole.
(Which is perhaps illusion
or, only sometimes.)
A long friendship
is a kind of marriage –
without the complications
of sex. Without
the financial
entanglement.
Easier in some ways,
more comfortable.
But lives go on, and happen
at times on different tracks.
They can lead
further and further away.
Not a loop rejoining, but
other directions, other
scenery / people /
contrivances for living.
The funny thing is,
you don’t notice. There is
still communication.
(Communication is stilled
but you don’t notice.).
Until they say something
and you respond
and they take offence.
And when you look at it
you can quite see why they do,
how it, carelessly, sounded.
Only (once) the way it was meant
would have been clear, accepted,
understood, needing no
explanation. No apology.
Not between these two.
But it has come to this.
We no longer run
so deep – no longer joined.
Instances proliferate.
Explanations, apologies:
wasteful. I detach
quietly. Respond politely.
From the outside.
Written for Poets and Storytellers United at Friday Writings #243, where we are invited to write something which includes numbers.