Henry

Does anyone know what to write about before the writing's done? For the past two weeks, I have over magnificent hills and gazed at depth less gorges, at gurgling streams of frothy white water and stood transfixed at rivers plunging to great depths over green mossy mountains. I have feigned sorrow at great rusted barely standing gates, once lovingly engraved, now mossy, solitary watchers in the midst of a lush field...roads, half paved, that branch off the highway, only to lead nowhere. Signs that proclaim the existence of non-existent stadia and schools round the bend.
I have tried to get moved by the passing of a legend or the sad proclamation of a student protester as he left home perhaps never to return.

I guess I can't escape being selfish; as most of us. If there is a forced, self important tone ingrained in here, pay it no heed. Do not rebuke the writer on account of that. Rise above me.
Let his name be Henry. He was my friend. And so much more. My laughter. My jealousies...my joy. I was his refuge. His brother. Everything that had seemed important enough to argue about seems insipid now. Insignificant little bits fly about in the face of that torment which announces daily of the rift, the loss of the person.
Henry had a friend. Henry loved that friend. I liked the friend and frequently argued with Henry...over little things about her and him. I thought we were stronger.
Now Henry's bond grows stronger with the friend and I look at them from the edge of the road. Henry cuddled up to me. Henry is cold over the phone.
Henry is not sure if he'll want to spend time with me henceforth. I miss him. Not him. I miss us. I never had a friend as he. Will I again?
I am not sure how I'll react if he stops all interaction. One thing is for certain. I will not blame him. And I hope I'll reach a day when I won't blame me.
I am lonely now. Loneliness has lost its appeal because of Henry. Henry told me today that they had grown closer. Henry told me today us getting close as before wasn't possible.

At the risk of sounding pathetic,I say this, "I loved you Henry."