the things we said and didn't --- the re-vision

Friends may kiss on the cheek,

but that depends on

what exactly you consider friends.

I want to tell you how used I feel,

but what is there to say?

You won't like the truth.

The truth is uglier than the rust

that covers your silence filled car.

When we reach my house

and open the doors

I hope the silence flows out.

If we open the windows now,

the suffocating fear of truth

might leak into the atmosphere

like a bad smell.

Still, we grasp for the silence.

We refuse to let go of the abuse

it brings. Silence is the abuser

and we are its naïve, young bride,

constantly apologizing

for things we shouldn't have to.

As we reach my house, my hope,

for the torturous silence to be diffused

by the fresh, clean air,

dissipates into the springtime.

Our silence grows stronger

despite the rush of the sound

of outdoors begging us to join in

with the noise.

The urge to give in to our fear

grows stronger, but we retaliate

with a restrained embrace

to spite the truth.

We try desperately to ignore

the truth as our goodbyes

come to an end.

The truth is,

friends don't kiss on the cheek.

-sunny sharmayne