Tell

A very rough draft of a poem

 

Confused friend, cautiously caring,

why won’t you tell me how you feel?

Weeks have gone by as

I

wait. Tell me, soon, what you want for us.

Trying to forget you,

everything reminds me. City

streets are

where I fell for you.

 

Walking similar streets

only makes me think back to

that one day;

I took you to the art museum, where

we

wandered and watched; the vibrant moderns

caught my eye, but they

made you laugh.

It endeared me to you more.

 

But now, weeks later,

tell me what you think.

I thought we would be great together,

an unstoppable team,

but you seem to disagree. If

you

think that this is what’s best for us,

then art, these city streets, and

flowers, as cliché as that may seem

will always remind me

of

us.