Dona is a friend of mine.
Dona is my best friend.
Dona is heartbroken,
and everyone tells me
to cut her off.
She’s in pieces,
and somehow
she makes everything
about herself.
Dona is no fun.
She cries.
She yells.
And still,
I keep going back.
Dona weeps
as if she could fill the Aral Sea.
Dona is a tragedy.
Do I go to her
to save her?
They tell me
she cannot be saved.
Dona thinks
she’s of no use.
Little does she know —
she is saving me.
Dona is the only tragedy I know
more heartbreaking than me.
Dona is the only person I know
more lost than I am.
And in her,
I find comfort.
I do not go to Dona
to save her.
I go
to save myself.
Dona is a friend of mine.
But I am no friend
to her.