Love for poetry was one thing Lola and I have in common. I could run over to her house and show her books upon books of the wonders of words. But this poem... this poem, I would never show her. It was like my own little secret. We share songs, too, with each other. Every time we hear a melody that we couldn't pass by one of us was at the others house plopping headphones in. Her picks are always stories about finding yourself, mine are always love ballads. Little did she know I secretly dedicate each one to her. I love to gaze at her, everything about her, when she listens to those songs. We've only been friends for a couple weeks, she'd just moved here. I loved that she's a Los Angeles girl. Big cities are so foreign to me, just as she is so foreign to me. Yet all the same, familiar. If only she didn't have a boyfriend. If only I wasn't a girl.All Rights Reserved
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