I was told once ,
That you can’t walk up to someone and be like “hey !you are my best friend ”
That normal stories don’t start like that ,
That they start with being chemistry lab partners ,
Or with being desk mates ,
That they start with that mutual friend you both don’t like .
But scratch that ,
Never once have I been normal ,
So May 6th when you showed up for school with the promise of forever ,
I was sure I wanted to sail this boat ,
I was sure I wanted to climb this mountain ,
Certain I wanted to swim this ocean.
And how I wish I had met you first ,
How I wish you were the one who worried about my migraine that 12th March.
The past remains that,
Buried and unmoved ,
With Me and you having scars of wounds we so much didn’t deserve ,
But I have seen the worst of you ,
The Best of you ,
And I pick both .
I pick 1a.m laughs and 2p.m arguments
I pick not agreeing on anything ,
I pick that awkward shade of Maroon,
I pick your laughter ,
I pick your anger ,
I pick your vent .
I pick apple juice and black forest cakes,
I pick everything …
Because someday ,
A day after forever ,
I will go through my box of memories ,
And there will be so much of you .
Hopefully,a day after forever ,
Our souls will sit on a bench at the beach
And remind each other of things that are meant just for you and me ,
Because memories are eternal gifts .
To the girl who encouraged me to do spoken word ,the sister who vents with me and the best friend I can always borrow a pair of jeans from …