i know this boy

who gets me in every way.

we used to talk all the time,

spend all our time together.

he made everyday more fun than the last,

and i love him for that.

but i also love him because,

when we lost our friend,

one of our best,

and i couldn't get over it-

or even express how i felt,

he got it.

he got me.

he understood that it hurt so much,

that no words could describe it.

that nothing would ever be the same again.

and we're still friends.

he's seen me at my worst,

in tears,

a sight not too many have seen,

and somehow he's still there for me.

i'm always scared that no one will stay if they see the real me,

but he's the one person who always has,

because he's seen me.

because our friendship is genuine.

and even though we don't talk very often anymore,

we still talk like no time has passed.

maybe it just doesn't pass for us-

maybe we're stuck in time.

I've passed by this same flower every day on my walk home from school

I admire everything about it

I can even say I love it

For all its beauty, it's a wonder, its growth, and perseverance

It's survived winters, storms, and every challenge the earth has bore

I wonder what it's like to pick it up and hold it

I've even thought about taking it home and planting it

It's not my flower, but I can't lie, making it mine has crossed my mind a time or two

But what's my walk like without that flower?

Does it have the same beauty if it's in my room?

Will I admire it for all the same reasons?

Maybe the flower is special because of where it is in my life

In my best friend's garden

Maybe the flowers right where it needs to be in my life

Where it's always meant the most to me

There is a duty among men

to hold each other up

and edify the workings of their friends

it is sacred, and it makes us whole

and defines and manifests the eternal love

earthly practice, community building endeavor

designed to defy the ways of the world

through works of kindness, an act of rebellion

Total harmony from now until forever.

Thats what we say

people still think it's romantic

we take each other to dances

and buy each other flowers

but she is the closest thing,

to a sister i have

she cares

i wear her clothes as i write this poem about her

her colorful hair

he grey eyes

and bright smile,

its platonic

i promise

yet no one believes

she means the world

she will leave some day

but not unless i leave too

we are stuck together like glue