"Friends in shrouds"
to the people i call friends,
is the reason you do not reach out
because you're afraid of me?
because I make terrible choices?
because I do not matter?
Because I look strong? unbothered?
Though we are apart,
my mind drifts to think of you,
wondering,
hoping,
wishing that you are okay.
is this how it will be?
My hands always moving
through the smoke,
through the toxin,
through the fig,
just to know you're safe?
If we were in a burning building,
would you look for me,
like i would look for you?
I do not even know
if you think of me
as your friend too
















