Sting
I’ll never get used to the sensation of
watching a person you thought to be
an unshakable foundation in your life
walk away.
The ground beneath your feet quivers
and all the little moments you shared
rise up from the splinters in the earth
and vanish.
What a cold and constant sting it is
to realize that chapters of your life
have come to close and exist solely
in the past.
I feel like this poem is a great companion to this excerpt by John Green from Will Grayson, Will Grayson.
“I think about how much depends upon a best friend. Then you wake up in the morning you swing your legs out of bed and you put your feet on the ground and you stand up. You don’t scoot to the edge of the bed and look down to make sure the floor is there. The floor is always there. Until it’s not.”
(Source: dreamsandashes)
