The Friend

The friend,

Who was meant to stand,

Right next to you,

On doomsday;

The friend,

Whom you’d heat needles with,

Stitch up each other’s wounds,

Through the blood and the tears;

The friend,

Whom you’d sit with,

In a bar, drinking away,

The battle scars;

The friend,

Who’d hold you,

In a steady embrace

Your safe haven, during quakes;

The friend,

Whose happiness

You’d have killed for,

Ripped out your lungs for;

The friend,

Who stabbed you,

In fear, of you, meaning to him,

As much as him to you.

I build up walls.
Laying one frozen cube
After another.
With prudence.
And freeze them all together.
I smile with triumph.

But then I remember
Your smile.

How your eyes
wrinkle on the sides,
Sparkling with mischief.
And shades of emotions
I never did decode.
And a spark rises.

Melting down the walls,
Into puddles.
Releasing the butterflies
To go haywire…