Intimate Friends

Concrete against my back, as familiar as cotton
I wear hard times like a threadbare frock
We whisper the intimacy of old lovers
who complete each other’s thoughts

There is twisted comfort in well-known angst
and converse dread in foreign joy
Bottom assures, I can fall no further
Below sea level, achingly, I reside

I have been here and worn these scars before
I dress my own wounds and relieve my pain
with expert first aid, of paper and pen
I know the storyline by heart