← What I want | ↑ Poems

Your Friday

It's not 5 am yet and you wonder.
Not Friday anymore but you won't buy into the idea
  that the day ends at midnight.

You set out to find a name
    to the thing that keeps your eyes open.
You keep your expectations low.
It's always been elusive,
that something that keeps you awake.
Still aren't you using these words
to ward off the evil spirits
that you yourself devised?

A lost friendship bubbles up on top of your thoughts.
The thoughts, is what your brothers call them
    and the people back home.
    They say: Stay without thoughts.

You cared for that friend until one day you stopped.
You have felt wronged.
You make an effort to change your mind.
Admit that you may be the one who never listened.
You hid behind that once-a-year obligation of just saying
happy birthday. You thought it was enough.

Once you met her in Naples, in via Toledo.
It was before COVID. You hugged her,
    she was very thin
    your left arm enveloped her entirely
    your fingers very briefly
    past her slightly sweaty armpit
    brushed her right breast
    and weren't you embarrassed?
← What I want | ↑ Poems