My Friend

I would have liked nothing better than to lie with with you, my friend. Not out of love, but admiration for the depth and beauty of your soul. Not out of love, but in gratitude for arousing a waning thirst for life. And, yes, I would have liked nothing better than to lie with you for passions sake alone, but Fall and Winter’s mismatched roads must needs diverge to nothing more than affable affection. And so, I wept for you before you even knew you were going. I wept for Kismet’s sorrowful jest, for Time’s cruel and twisted hoax. And I wept for me, but then rejoiced that someone touched my soul