On old friendships and new awkwardness

I would hate my memory to become inanimate
An object in your hands while you try so hard

To remember what it was like so long ago
I would hate to be a bundle of little things

Collected over the years and stored in a box
Take joy in the simplest things – you say

You cherish the effort so much
That you forget its worth

It’s ultimately a pile of rubbish in a way
Most of it was given without much thought

Please tell me I won’t end up there, in that box
In the confines among other things left behind

Tell me I won’t share the space in your mind
With a hundred people you felt the same about

I want a neural pathway in your brain for me
That lights up with happiness as you recall

All the things we did. The fun we have had.
Sad things we have spoken at length about.

And it is heart breaking to come to terms with this
That soon between us will be walls of awkwardness

The lack of a forced regular interaction will surely bring
The onus on us to continue a friendship effortlessly built

And it will fade like all else does in a pile of memories
Collecting dust under the weight of new responsibilities.

I’m terrible at this, so often I have been told
Terrible at any form of communication apparently

Because there is the feeling and there is the act
And for me there is no bridge between the two

You were a pillar of support, logic and love
And in that order mind you, and I tried to be as much.