A genius soul of a brilliant friend,
Yet always with a bloodied hand
- amazed by death like a scientist gone mad,
Her presence's lovely, for her absence I'm glad.
Of course, she's still someone to adore
With her crystalline irises that hold more
Than what could fit into a whole e-book...
However, she's still a peculiarity cook.
We used to be closer, difference tore us apart,
As years passed, she grew more foreign to my heart.
And while it pains me to watch a friendship almost fade,
I think we can't just fit, based on how we were made.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
