Romantic Friendship

Sundays are the loneliest—

I feel the weight of mileage
more profoundly

as your boyfriend drives
four glossed hours
to meet up with your door.

I wrap myself in crystals
& cut glass like a shroud—

cursing the insolent mountains
that apologize for nothing but
their newly abashed beauty.

You are working on
perfecting perfection

& the hours are slower here—

you cried to me last night

& all the pet names
I have in my arsenal
were proven worthless.

You are sunlight turning
the ocean to diamonds—

glittering blasphemously
with no shame

& none of my created stones
can shine as wholly.

When I'm certain you are
laying beneath him
I don't know whether to

cringe or smile—

unable to decide if

romance or friendship

is illuminating the ghost of your face
in my vision.