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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #2182367
A narrative poem
My Latina Friend

Sometimes, when I'm all alone,
When I'm tired and it's getting late,
My mind will wonder where it will,
Unfettered by a conscious guide.

Often then, my memory's eye,
Having plunged far back in time,
And across the miles as only it could,
Finds its focuses on your face.

Long, dark hair frames big brown eyes,
And a smile, that smile,
Always that beautiful smile,
So warm and sweet and quick to come.

Then I feel so warm inside,
And a smile comes to my face too,
As I wonder what ever became of,
My dear, sweet, little Latina friend.

Oh! The things we saw and said,
The things we did and people we met,
The thoughts we shared and debated,
We three they called the Musketeers.

Though all three the best of friends,
You two were like fraternal twins,
Sharing, always connected,
On some subconscious level.

As close as we were, she and I,
As familiar as any two could be,
Intimate as the closest lovers, or siblings,
Or some aberrant conflagration of the two.

She and I knew one another,
We understood each other well,
But you connected as I never could,
How I envied the bond you had.

You loved me, did you not?
Loved me much as I loved her,
I can see that all so clearly now,
Hindsight being as it is.

She knew it all along, didn't she?
But your friendship would not allow,
You to make a move on me,
Nor let her bow to jealousy.

Were you waiting?
Biding your time?
Knowing, much as she and I,
That our love was doomed.

Doomed it was and knew we did,
Though never said, 'twas understood,
Friends, like siblings, we should have stayed,
As lovers we were just no good.

Friends for life we should have been,
And friends for life I guess we were,
Though such a short time it was to be,
Too soon came her life to its end.

Successful in my need was I,
then to forget it all so well,
Turning off every memory of her,
With those of her went those of you.

How her death must have hurt you,
Like a part of yourself being torn away,
Could I have helped you in your pain,
Had my selfishness not won out?

Selfish or cowardice, it matters not,
I gave in to it, so willingly,
And abandoned you, much as I did,
Everything good that came to me.

Time and life have both moved on,
Now triggered by something uninformed,
Those memories flooded back to me,
After twenty years were gone.

Though in a way, they're still unwanted,
The pain from times of long ago,
I can no longer keep them buried,
They dug themselves out from the hole.

Most, by far, are happy memories,
Of good friends and of good times,
The pain is not in that remembered,
But in the loss it represents.

Still, life is good and I've done well,
Happily married and children too,
Some memories sad and some are happy,
I wouldn't trade the ones of you.

When my minds eye goes to wander,
Those happy memories include you,
And I often find myself wondering,
Do you ever think of me too?

I'm quite aware though of the truth,
It's best for us both that I don't know,
Whatever it was became of you,
Our dear, sweet, Latina friend.


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