Variation on Sonnet 130
My best mate's eyes were distant as the moon
when he lay on the ground and slowly bled
as cold and empty as a silver spoon
and still they saw what further lay ahead.
I have seen villains, psychopaths and war
I thought I'd seen it all, and yet one day
he stands there on the threshold of my door
breathes, smiles, and takes my breath away.
I want him to explain, yet I know well
that no amount of words will e'er return
the countless weeks and months I spent in hell
when his cold eyes would stare and make me burn.
There is but one solution in this case:
To clench my fist and punch him in the face.