Detox for Friends

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She is not your friend,

But she knows which one of you

Makes her look thinner.

We’ve all dealt with that toxic friend who we mistakenly believe feels the same way about us as we do about them. The one who smiles and shares and seems to have all the qualities of a caring companion, but who is rotten on the inside, jealous of our achievements and using our vulnerable spots to their advantage.

Hopefully, you’ve successfully detoxed these people out of your life. (If not, do it now. It’s going to happen one way or another, and you might as well be hurt less now than more later.) But it can be even more helpful to express your experience through words or art. Betrayal is an interesting theme, and one which just popped out in this haiku (above) while I was thinking of something else.

Have you written or drawn or composed anything that represented a friend’s betrayal? Did it help you to move on, or to solidify your decision to step away from a toxic relationship?

Haiku, Low-ku

Gimme treat

A dog is not the

Faithful sort. He merely knows

Who buys the biscuits.

At one point in our month’s discussion of poetry, we considered that we may be too low-brow for haiku. We toyed with the notion of Low-ku, a poetry form that focuses on the unworthy topics for immortalization. Like the one I’ve written above.

What’s your Low-ku???

“Ash”

This is a product of our Wednesday Writers group, following some discussion on the Haiku form. It’s remarkable how much emotion can be distilled into a 5-7-5 syllable, 3-line poem. It’s brevity at its best. Ashley Capes wonders, “Do haiku essentially say nothing beautifully, or say beautiful things with just a few words?”

There are many nuances and tangents with haiku, depending on the subject matter and effect the author wants to create. Mine tend to the Senryu, which focuses on humanity, sometimes with satire. I set out to create one haiku, but ended with a series around a theme.

I wasn’t able to share this with the group at the time, but I think I can leave it here now.

I don’t believe in
Ghosts, but I am certainly
Haunted. You rise again.

Glow from my burning
past warms only my outer shell.
The heart remains cold.

It is hard to think.
You sat just here, smiling or drunk.
Ash does not recline.

I wake. never sure
what day it is, week, month, year.
Death bends time on itself.

I should write something
that is not sad, so my smile
will match my words.

I was betrayed once
For many years. The surprise
Still waits when I wake.

A cold day in hell,
Or just Missouri weather.
I’ll not take you back.

In the end, we are
Fish mouths, closing and open.
The air escapes us.