I’m telling ya’—really!—they’re only friends.
It’s jus’ . . . well . . . evenin’s drawin’ to a close,
An’ though they’ve done their best, it always ends
The same ol’ way. Grown shy now, nose to nose,
There’s no goodnight ‘til someone reaches out
To hol’ the other. See? They’re drawn inside
That unmapped place, where, fearful, full o’ doubt,
Both long to lose their way.
Ya’ think they’ve lied?
If so, their lie is rendered with such care
As only two ol’ friends can show (his hand,
All tender, brushes back a wisp o’ hair;
Her neck, more tender . . . mmmmmm). They understand
What’s placed at risk. They try to make it right:
They’re friends. They kiss. They only kiss goodnight.
Postcard to my Suicide
I thought o’ you,
and jus’ the other night,
in fact. It made me feel
I really oughta write
this little note an’ say,
I love it here. The sky
is blue. The sea is blue.
An’ well . . . that’s all.
Johnny Longfellow is the editor of the online poetry site, Midnight Lane Boutique. His own poetry has appeared in The Barefoot Muse, The Road Not Taken, The Rotary Dial, and other journals. In addition, he has served for over twenty years as a mentor to Newburyport, MA high school students through the Poetry Soup reading program and print journal. Follow him on Twitter @BAD_ACID_LABS