Dreaming of A Lost Friend

Alive.

But you are dead to
me.

As dead as if I'd
identified

Your body
myself.

Your eyes look through
me

Like a corpse.

Blank
space

Where memory used to
be.

Denial.

I
can't accept it.

Instead I cling to
you,

Make you the hero

You never
were in my life.

Anger. (Well,
it's only natural I suppose).

I want answers to
questions

I never knew
existed

Until I lost
you...

But still I can't bring
myself

To speak ill of the dead.

Or
hate anyone for whom

I still feel so much
love.

I'm sad.

Finally I grieve for you

As I
would for any friend

Who has
died...

Slowly...Painfully...

Except
it's worse,

Because you are
here

And could still give me

The
answers I am looking for.

Except
you won't.

You've grown to like being
dead.

Or at least, being dead

To
me.