I'm just so glad, you're glad. How can you say you're always alone when I was there for you. Maybe, was I? Because now & then, even I, I am unsure of myself. I don't know when I feel & when I shut, where I drift to sometimes. Did I not mention my presence, did I not make it known to you.
When I cut myself by accident I thought of you. How could I have obliterated you.
& after all these culpability, the epic is still me. Me & my adolescence, how I neglected you. So now we notice why the letters in I are in capitals & you in small. Poignant yet stealthily subtle. Because we confess to ease our guilt, to release self induced tension. In no context would you be the hallmark, unless it is for a better cause, a matter of utilitarian dialectic. Because you so conveniently fit into the picture portraying me in the silhouette and coherently under the lime-light of acknowledging my flaws. To acknowledge your blemish without remorse is to hone your imperfections by putting on a mask. We do not want to make the evident obvious, or allow it visible to the naked eye that's all.
But with all these make up, the propensity of you believing me to be building you up, to be such a beloved friend is high. Serendipitous for your situation. Now you love me, love my makeshift talk to prevent tears from touching those cheeks because I know my limitations; I cannot comfort. I am after all, callous, nothing of your pensiveness.
& you must know, what am I but a manifestation of all encompassing hearts that beat.
So I am so sorry I wasn't there for you, maybe now,
My apologies dear friend, i wasn't there for YOU.


Nothing that can alarm you. Nothing dark.