Page 52 - MAY Poetry Anthology
P. 52



                          DEAR FRIEND

           I was hermitical in this world.
           Neither did I have beloved
           Nor friends to talk with.
           I couldn’t pretend to be good
           To have friends.
           Sometimes I went to the town

           And shot my arrows at them,
           Sometimes I sent requests to
           Unknown people only to talk.
           Sometimes I got approval
           Sometimes disapproval,
           But I was fine with them.
           I went to meet them,
           Interacted with them,
           I shared my inner side, my secrets.
           The next day, I always heard my secret
           On someone’s talk, on someone’s status.
           My gaze caught the desolate pen and paper
           That had been closed for years.
           I thought for a week and
           Shared my untold secrets.
           They proved loyal.
           I stopped going to the town,
           Stopped following them on Facebook.

           I found out my friend was locked in the drawer

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