I always knew I looked like her:
same eyes, smile, ****** expressions,
and even our glasses and smiles.
I always knew that my curls and her
straight hair separated us.
I always knew that we liked the same things,
disliked the same things.
I always knew our hands wrote the
same.
I always knew that her fear of
something
and my love for that thing
made us unique,
but today I learned something new.
We talk the same.
I may swear more,
but I'm not really sure.
I've heard her swear once when she
was mad,
and every other time,
she was reading a foul line.
But when we're happy,
we have the same tone,
the same speed,
the same words.
When we're sad,
you can hear it in our voices,
see it in our eyes,
notice it in our slouching spines.
And when we're proud of others,
we let them know.
Oh, over and over again,
we let them know.
I'm proud to say I'm like her,
and maybe not seeing her for a year,
I'll be okay.