I'll Be a Friend, Tomorrow

Maybe when banging doors and loud voices
Would not drain the colour in me,
I'll be a friend, tomorrow.
I'll tell you that it hurts, when you
Talk to me, behind me, about me-
And that, I drag my thumbnail across
My fingers when I'm nervous.

Maybe when you ask for me to celebrate
And paint the town red, I would nod.
I'll be a friend, tomorrow.
I'll tell you that I spend nights under
Dark grey skies, counting absent stars
And that, the salty brine that sweep about
My face aren't just sweat from the dancing.

Maybe if you hold my hand and smile
And return my colours to me,
I'll be a friend, tomorrow.
I'll tell you stories of your greatness that
I proclaim to others, about dreams-
Of us, hair blowing in pleasant breezes
And my face, prouder to just be there.

And in this fog of emboldened words and-
Premature actions, I'll still tell you,
I'll look up as you stand atop conquered hills
You mount corpses of men and animals alike-
I'll be a friend, tomorrow.