Answer:
oh my dearest friend, how I love you also. So here’s a poem:
Let swiltering winds
and currents unforseen
Crash us against uncertain shores
For you are my buoy
A log set adrift
Keeping me up
As deep waters sift!
It began one day over a steaming cup of overpriced tea. An old friend leaned across the table, examining some significant aspect of my face. I reclined casually, attuned to her critical anecdotes.
“The last time I looked like you, I ended up in jail after an argument over a worn out hat made of porcupines. You should consider getting some more sleep.”
Porcupines. Yes, she did say that. No amount of sleep deprivation could ever compare to some of her experiences.
“Remember I told you about my Dad? He stuffs animals for a living – totally creepy, I know – but he also has a huge flare for fashion.” She repeated the story oblivious to the curious glances of the shop’s regulars. Whether or not they had ever heard of a misguided taxidermist who switched into fashion after accidentally cutting along the wrong seam was irrelevant. Her story both shocked and intrigued those who lent a curious ear and I found myself growing envious of her natural vibrancy.
“Beth?” she poked my tea closer towards me, spilling some on the table.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Why are you so tired all of a sudden? I love you and everything, but you’re beginning to look haggard.”
She was never one for subtlety. I looked past her for a moment, settling on the blurry edges of my reflection in the nearby window. Dark swells curling out from under my eyes were clear, even in such a poor medium. With hair thrown back into a tousled mess of a ponytail and a baggy sweatshirt, I reluctantly fell to her assessment; I cursed myself for not taking the time to check a mirror before rushing out the door that morning.
Impatient, she motioned for me to answer her previous question. The steam from our drinks swirled between her fingers with the movement. I spoke absently, watching the way my mouth moved and my sweater ruffled in the reflection. “I’ve been busy with work and some new projects. Sleep is on the back burner for now.”
“You know that’s unhealthy right? In second year I met this guy who went without sleeping for five days.” She went off again, retracing her past with animated expression. I sighed, leaning my head on one hand. The steam continued to twist and float about between us, bending with each of her gestures.
A well-placed nod or murmur of intrigue kept her talking until the spirals of heat had at last disappeared completely.
I heard a wise man say,
`Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.’
But I was one-and-twenty
No use to talk to me.
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
`The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
‘Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.’
And I am two-and-twenty
And oh, ‘tis true, ‘tis true."
this town, this nostalgia, can wear on a person
my life (or education, at least)
(Source: batyoureyesgirl, via onlygodcansaveus)
The most adorable, most talented man. I love you, Mr. Wilkinson.
