[Title]

Speech comes purposeful and what

You mean to say,

Is said, so bluntly. What's been played

I cannot decide but I overthink anyway.

A night I am so proud of;

She beams and glows and my heart pours love

Within and Without, my best friend turns

wiser, I warm in salts of sentiments.

The night I am so proud of;

Yet so stripped

Of comprehension as to what means

To be his intension as he plays

Not fairly but selectively to hurt

Or to honestly not see;

Strangely his actions tear me so --

And I wonder why I'm left so deeply affected.

Perhaps my sensitivity overplays --

I cannot breathe but choke on lumps

Of impressions that leave me pathetically

Desperate for acknowledgement.

I am surprised mostly by my petty

Dwellings. Each (over)thought I respond with

verges of leaks and

A little anger.

A night to remember, a night I remain

Proud of -- my best friend turns 21.

Too bad this night's left me more

(Or less) than I had

anticipated.