We argued over Thomas Becket, my friend and I, my dearest friend,
who is parting from me slowly every hour.
I gave a hollow proof and she asked me,
"Do you believe that, truly?" to believe things truly,
and I believe in very little truly.

I heard her patronize me and I thought,
How things have changed.
Two years have reversed our roles.
Two years ago I was the one with stances and convictions.
I used to look at her in pity,
and I held her head away from the cold locker door when kids were cruel.
Then four weeks and a sour strip of entrails transposed us
And now I cannot hold
her, and there is no need to hold her.

I am easily appeased with ink on paper,
which does not contradict me as she does,
and I qualify my every statement for fear of controversy.
Indexed and cross-indexed with twisting strands of words,
Empty speech is the nucleic acid of my presence,
double-helixed, this being the building block of my life.