flowers in your hair.

You two are mean and somehow so kind.
Brutally honest yet somehow so comforting.

 

But we're not best friends.

There is so much we don't agree on, we see the world differently, people wouldn't associate us with one another. Which is why we are clearly going separate ways in life.

Yeah, we're not best friends.

We take doses of each other then, we take a break, then, come back and pick right up where we left off.

We've seen the cute boy crushes, the blooming flowers, the calm, coffee drinking, lullaby singing episodes of each others life.
But my goodness, we've also seen the unpleasant, disastrous, the wallowing worst.

From dressing in vibrant colors, nudging each others hips for attention, and pointing at the camera and screaming, "smile!"
To hearing the dead leaves crunch beneath our feet, black dresses, dark shades, interlocking hands, and whispering, "smile."

But we're not best friends.
Your honesty would take me by surprise, you'd say, " you're building a bridge to nowhere..
but I'll help you build until you realize. And when you do, don't fret, we can always break this down and start all over, and over, and over, until we get it right."

You two.
You bore a responsibility that didn't belong to you.
 You were burdened
by what burdened me.
You gave up so much of your time, your Senior year.
When I had bad days, you had bad days, when I had good days, you had great days.

We're not best friends.
They're giving me dessert when I'm full, and I'm smiling and enjoying their company again. I still love them, nonetheless.
But..
I'll always hug you two a little tighter, not only will my arms embrace you but so will the warmth of my body.
You fed me when I was starving.
No matter what my opinion is of your life and beliefs, or yours of mine.
It doesn't matter,
 you'll always find a friend me.

As long as I have a place to lay my head down, so will you.
Wherever I am, my home, will be your home.

You're not my best friends.
You're a solid ground to keep me from slipping, immediately transforming into a cushion for when I fall anyway. A glance of your freckles, the sight of your long Greek hair, a crooked smile, and a perfectly tanned skin. A reminder when I look back, the living, breathing, proof, that the struggle ends.

                              And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears
                               And love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears
                                        Get over your hill and see what you find there

                                     With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friendship.

One of us on the bed, the other on the floor, or, two on the bed, and one plopped in a chair. 

Perhaps, we're even dispersed on opposite sides of the room in a bubble of our own.

Flipping pages, scanning words, in our mind theirs a story being acted out, seeing characters

created by authors but brought to life by us. Spoken words are absent, conversation lost us,

the world has lost us, and we've been astray for 45 minutes, the only one who can find us is our own dream, when we're drifting

into sleep, which comes next.

If someones came in the room they wouldn't notice the intensity of the scene, much less appreciate it.  I mean how can 3 people who whisper during class, sing loudly in the car, and even gossip in the shower can sit in utter lull. It's like letting your head sink under water when you bathe, there's noise, but it's distant and aloof. We're restless, strong in character, and have very little, yet so much in common. 

We don't waste each others company, this is enjoying each other in the greatest form.

I've heard many different ways of becoming a part of someone, but what sweeter way to love someone than taking in and knowing their silence?

Sharing secrets, trying their parents soup, listening to their favorite songs, reading their blogs, knowing their phone password, that contributes to friendship, nonetheless. That's all there is right? Splitting a doughnut, opening the fridge with out asking, knowing they eat Dario every Tuesday after dance. But how many times can you say you know someone by their stillness? Recognizing who they are when they're not up and going,  when they're saying nothing to you, not even looking at you? 

Memorizing someone by the noise they make when they shift positions from side to back, knowing someone by the way they flip a page. Although you're drowned in a book, you know who did what, your peripheral vision saw her run her fingers through her hair. Your absent mind caught her absent minded action. 

That's the key, that's the exact thing. You're alert self has nothing to do with this, because it's attention is else where, remember?

It's that part of you, that human instinct that is somehow still alert, that knows the part of them that is still biting their lip or twirling their ponytail. That's how far reading can take you, further than just being a little brighter as a student. That's why it feeds your character, your personality, it's not necessarily what's in the book, but how you take on the presence in the room even when you're not fully there.

When that presence is people, that's bond, that's friendship.






Dedicated to my two main girls.