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i have a friend. she is beautiful. not the kind of beautiful that makes your heart melt. the kind of beautiful that makes your soul hurt. we’ve been friends since the single digit days. a loner by choice, she chose me.
i was naive when we met. i’m naive now. she always seemed worlds beyond me even when she was right next to me. smart, she was. pretentious, she’s been called. elitist, she admits. hypocrite, she was not. convention, she spurned.
we’ve been down the street. we’ve been hours apart. we’ve had oceans between us. yet her fingerprints remain all over my heart. she understands without me speaking. silence is a currency we trade.
for every painting i’ve plundered through; she could dabble masterpieces in seconds. for every word i had to choose carefully, she could challenge ginsberg on a napkin. for all the times i’ve been weak, she’s been strong. the only one to know everything humanly possible to know about me.
admiration, i suppose that’s what you call it. in constant awe & yet it’s far too odd to say these things aloud, so i leave them on this page.
