El enlatado de Ka, Berlinerin

A mi amiga, que ya no es mi amiga

To my friend, who isn't my friend anymore:

I still think about you.
I used to know all your coulours,
and share the same hues.
But now, you've become a you
who I am colourblind to.

And nothing bad happened, really,
we just... lost touch, drifted apart.
Leaves that fell from the same branch,
we got carried away on a different breeze
because we got carried away with other priorities.

So now you're not in my life, and I am not in yours.
But before it was like there was this river
that just flowed between you and I,
alive with never ending conversation,
a safe space to stream consciousness or confession.

But we stood on opposite sides of the shore
and watched with sad eyes as this river
slowly dired up and died.
We could have reached out, but
the space between us grew too wide.

The river dried up and left us in a drought
and I doubt we knew it then but we can see now,
as the waters turned to sand that our friendship had been deserted.
An it hurts. But I guess we deserve it.
We never did what we shold to protect and preserve it.

And it's my fault. And it's your fault.
And it's no one's fault at all.
And now I'm stuck in this war of pride
because I can't even decide
if I want to invite you back into my life.

I have so many questions, like "How is your brother?"
and "Your housemate moved out, did you find another?"
and "Why does losing a friend make my heart ache
more than when I've lost a lover?"

Memories of summers filled with happiness
now fill my eyes with bitter tears,
but I hide behind my veneer and I smile
because I am bitter like a lemon
in that I won't let you see it.

My sourness is hidden behind
my sunny yellow exterior,
which is masking the fear
that I have lost my friend
because I am inferior.

So I will say that something's been lost
for something to be gained
in this weak attempt to palate my pain,
but I don't know what it is yet.
I only know that we're no longer the same.

Even though we share the same pain of going our separate ways
and becoming friends who aren't friends anymore,
who still remember all the love and laughter from before
and hold it close like a secret kept never to be shared again.
A friendship that is cherised even after it ends.

And in the end, there is not much left to say.
But I still think about you.
And I hope you're okay.