What You Were and What We Were Not

 You were not a friend.

    You were just a man who

    blacked out at my house

    and slept on my couch,

    occasionally.

 

You were not safety.

    You were a landmine

    arguing until the sun rose

    about nihilism and why

    we shouldn't care

    about anything.

 

You were not present.

    You were a mirage fading in and

    out of reality forgetting

    nice things said and

    secrets shared with me.

 

You were not healthy.

    You were a depressed drought 

    who remarked casually 

    he hadn't felt the rain

    in many years.

 

You were not ready for me.

    You were a scared child trembling

    in my lap, dreaming in fear,

    paralyzed by our shared

    intimacy.

 

We were not in love.     

    We were just magnets to

    each others' loneliness and

    emotional unavailability.

 

-Liz