To my absent friendIn the time it takes for youTo my absent friend by Carenza
not to read this
we could both be dead.
Or you might like that, ever the
terminal romantic, ready for the drama
of things not moving.
I'll keep this short.
Simply that I hate the thought of
you not being there,
wherever you are, or who you
are being, or for whom
The days behind us
have become adjacent,
so although ahead we may be undone,
your life and mine, though imagination,
have become compressed
your image burned.
So, if one day you should find yourself
Falling down the rabbit hole or
Lost in some abyss, never to return
Know that in every second spent (and gone)
there is a Love
of everything you ever were.