700 Days

For nearly seven hundred days you were my friend.
We did as friends do;
The laughs, the whispered secrets,
The gossip,
The tears.
What more could two lonely
Souls do for one another
But to be friends for
Just about seven hundred days.
Not too short, nor too long,
Just enough time to capture a heart.

You were organic, wheat.
Me?
Produce, sugars.
Us?
Water and vinegar.
Products of love.

Tales of abuse and bitterness
Were alleviated
By grandiose stories of
Something beyond the Bay;
The sky scraper,
The notebook,
The man.
The lines between struggle
And imaginary difficulties was blurred,
So that, in the end,
All there was was problems.

My friend of seven hundred days,
Where are you now?
Have you settled your peace in your land?
Where have you gone?
Are you happy?

There were promises,
As most friends have,
Of keeping in touch,
As most friends say.

But us, we knew.

After seven hundred days,
My friend,
We knew it wasn't true.