Absent Friends Poem by Ballerina With Fins

Absent Friends;
here's to them.

It's all a facade.
The immensely cheerful voice,
silently mocking you. The little touches
of playful annoyment, really hateful pretence.
All harbingers of the peripheral
illusions waiting to break
free.

Absent friends,
those half people, mirror images,
of the perfect people, but fleeting,
evanascent. Those beautiful images,
reflecting the perfect life, so easily broken.
Shards of a perfect life, that I never once knew.
Absent friends, shadows of smug,
protesting voices. Fleeting.

Is it the disappearance of warmth,
the shattering of cold glass,
till you have drifted away? Is it the
snapping of the thin line
you never knew existed in the first
place? What has come of them?
They are now ghosts of individuals,
demeaned to the same tier.

Nevertheless.

Absent friends, here's to them.