Not Meant To Care, My Friend

i wish i could be the one
to carve your tombstone, 
              my friend.


the final deed to speak of your worth,
your life, all that, o crap, you know that.
as it was, let it be, all the way mere mirth,
with a clown’s mask at an ol’ jester’s death.


while you suck in last life breath,
let me whisper the pleasant truth;
for we are mature, to bear even that,
salt upon wounded life, bleed not that.


a joke it was, between you and me,
when we did time, timed it didn’t we?
so engaged in life, with so little love to part,
two stories, two storytellers, two worlds apart.


when you pass on:
shall i comfort you,
that i will think of you,
i wish to be with you –
     but surely, why lie?


it would hurt my intelligence
to feign ignorance of your need
for my love, but we are friends.
not meant to care, are we, 
                my friend?