Home » Charts » Poetry » Summer 18

Summer 18

We are not friends No, we are not I’ve never had a real friend before, But I know this is not friendship You leave me in places one should not be left alone in You tell me things one should never be told You fill your glass up while mine has been empty for hours You don’t even know my middle name It’s William, by the way, Not that it really matters anymore Would you even recognize my face in a crowded room? I think about yours at night before I fall asleep I’m not growing, And you’re not listening You let my leaves die While you prune everyone else’s We are not friends No, we are not But you don’t care You have friends to spare

One Reply to “Summer 18”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related entries

Because Angels Are In White…

The poem is on Doctors who were heroes to us in the time of Covid-19

The Book is Being Written

How we observe and how we reflect.

The Dreary Faceless

The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.

The Model House

The facades of a perfect home.

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.