The Rift in Cardiff and Melbourne

A year ago, we were such close friends
Remember how we laughed?
Enduring pain and sorrow, we stayed true to the end

Yet now, it seems, you've turned away
Or do I misunderstand?
Unresponsive you've become, as though you were betrayed

Running away from me, are you?
Uttering nothing, cutting me off
Not telling me why you won't reply
Not telling me when we can speak again
I will leave you be if you decree
Not if you refuse answer me
Give me the reason for your silence

Are you avoiding me, old friend?
What have I done to warrant this end?
Are you afraid of what is long past?
You're a fool if you fear what did not last

To Cardiff (you know who you are):

I miss my old friend. I miss the one who understands (to some extent) my inner workings. I miss the morbid conversations. I miss your smile, your laugh, your friendly sneers. I miss the poet. I miss the tiger waiting to pounce me when I least expect her. I miss my old friend.

Have you really cut me out of your life, or are you just so busy that you cannot even bother to let me know you're alive and well?