Art School

I cannot say much of the time that has passed since you left,
having somehow lost the contact that once made you so familiar.
At times it is hard to imagine you caring about the
mundane occurrences of our daily lives as you sprint
towards a glittering future the rest of us can only imagine.
I can venture that there are certain to be empty rooms
in a townhouse I helped paint (black, eggplant, aqua) on my day off,
a tawny cat with a penchant for theatrics and ninja impersonations,
and most notably your husband-whom you are still married to,
despite your relocation to another state, worlds away from here.
There are many things I would want tell you if I thought I could,
if bruised egos weren't hanging precariously in the balance
along with the friendship I thought we shared...
I would whisper of confusion, of disappointment, of loss,
of how things have changed and yet remained the same,
but mostly of not understanding why a dream of froth and magic
was worth exchanging a reality built on love, and
more significantly a life you had chosen once before.
There is much I would say, if I thought for half a minute
that things might change.
There is much I would say, if I thought you would listen.

Instead, I can only hope that on a kaleidoscope's end of this journey
your life resembles the one you had chosen before
enough for us to know that in pursuing your dream,
you didn't lose the sister we so desperately loved.

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