Fractured Friendship

In the early hours of morning when my mind refuses rest, I think of you and this year and our friendship that was messed. I wonder why you felt the need to cut me from your life; I struggle with the choice I made that caused all this strife: To pretend I knew nothing or charge in to save the day. Knowing how we ended now, I might wish I picked the other way. You were drowning in a habit that stole you from your self. I was made aware and couldn’t keep the issue bottled on the shelf. I understood the anger, sadness, and shame. I handled it when you unfairly placed blame. I tried to stand firm and offer support and love. In the face of your resistance I tried not to shove. So why the cold shoulder, why the need, to trample on our years of friendship, to stab and watch me bleed? One year later and all I have are these thoughts and the sad realization that my caring and concern to you meant naught. Yet here I am, naively hoping for the day, when I see you and you say, “Hi Friend! I’m better and loved you always!”