Stiff Upper Lip

My head is a reel of film. It sits on my pillow and torments me. I see you glide into class. I see euphoria. I see us walking through narrow streets overseas. I see glimpses of fights, but they are scarce. I see us graduating. I see discussions over timing and location and finally my own shaved head. How did it come to this? Why, when everything seemed so perfect did everything collapse. Yes we still talk and technically your not gone, but I’m going to be soon. Then what? I see my grandmother passing and you losing it over the pressure of school. I see dances and parties and the aftermath. I see the astronomy tower. It’s like this every night. I want to tell you that I love you but it’s inappropriate. It feels like years since I’ve seen you, yet your face is crystal in my mind. I see silly faces and tiny dorm rooms. I see us cooking and you freaking out about salmonella. I see an orchestra and a chapel. I hate that you may never see or hear this. I may act like I’m fine, but I miss my best friend.

Orpheus