a poem for a friend

you said I was good at everything today
you listed things you've seen me excel at 
and you seemed to find this frustrating. 

little do you know
just how much 
I struggle
to reach out
to feel safe
to find trust

little do you know 
the suffering that I've gone through
getting yanked up
year 
after year
pulled away from my futile attempt to grow roots
i've been replanted too many times
and now
I grow sideways

little do you know 
how many times 
I've tried to make my words perfect
my phrases flawless
but failed
thrown away 
and started over

little do you know
just how much abandoned art 
half finished sketches
scribbled out designs 
and forgotten paintings
sit in the drawers of my desk

little do you know
about the cookies 
with the salt instead of sugar
or the pie
that tasted like cardboard

little do you know
how I feel guilty 
and confused
about being a sibling
and how many times
I've ignored their existence 
because I felt selfish

I want you to know
that I'm not perfect 
and never will be.
but I try 
to be the best that I can be.

I want you to know
that I wish the same for you 
i want you to thrive and grow
to learn and live
to be happy 
and feel the way you need to feel.

and I want you to know
that I'm proud to call you my friend.
because you 
are amazing 
you listen 
and smile
and laugh 
and understand. 
your smart 
and your kind.
I could write a million poems
about how amazing you are. 
my best friend.
that's what you are. 

as long as you want to be 

 

Inkpaw

VT

17 years old

More by Inkpaw

  • The Boxes In The Corner

    Looming over your shoulders

    Each stack higher than its former

    Every thought and every scrap

    Of an idea too scared to ponder

     

    Every moment that hurt

    Each minute that lingered longer

  • Inadequacy


    How do I push the words out
    From behind my taffy tongue 
    Thick with salty tears 
    And full of grubby thumb 


    I’m a child 
    Pretending that I’m numb 
    To escape the overwhelming feelings 

  • Paper Frogs

    Why

    When feet fall soft but quick 

    Does the hallway extend

    And the hot breath of whoever’s behind me feel hotter 

    Why do I stay pressed to the wall 

    Like a stubborn gruby sticker