It’s my best friend’s birthday today
I’ve moved 5,000 miles away
We talked again just the other day
but it may be months until we do the same
The guilt of checking in less often
Snowballs into avoiding checking in more often
What a vicious cycle, of feelings recycled
Over and over for these past years.
What did she mean by that?
He tries his best to read between the lines
But right now that feels like trying to breathe between the vines
Constricting and gasping, fighting for a clue
Looking for a hint that her coldness is a ruse
An armor to break through?
Anything, anything at all besides:
‘She’s just not into you.’
Throat tightness approaching acid-reflux-panic-attack-too-much-coffee levels
A last glance in the mirror
A last, last glance in the mirror
A pat down of the shirt he’d picked and perfectly pressed two days before
An extra spray of the cologne she’d always loved
He finally deemed his appearance perfect for their first ‘let’s still be friends’ coffee
Knowing full well it wouldn’t matter in the slightest.