She held me and
I held her.
Sometimes one of us would cry or
sometimes we'd fall asleep.
I'd mostly fall asleep to the
Sweet sound of her rhymic
Breath or
Her short but surely
sweet yawns.
I'm still wondering--
Am I the only friend that
she's let hold her
at night?

It just seems funny because
None of her other friends seem like the
Type who would do that
And I even asked one and they
looked at me like I was
crazy.

So, I guess my question is--
Why did she let me
hold her at night?
And why did she bother
To hold me back?
Is it just a special bond or
was it something more?

I guess I'm still hoping that
She mean't what she said when
she said she
Might feel the same
Way.

You still look beautiful
despite rough finger tips,
arms thin as twigs
and dry cracked lips.
Take a breath
you've done far too much crying,
dry your cheeks,
try to forget you're dying.

She wants to know me,
Whisper secrets down my throat.
But like so many before..
I don’t see her name, but,
I know everything about her.
I discern her independent thoughts
Her politely rebellious acts of defiance,
How she shops at thrift stores
Wearing old tank-tops to complement her Chanel,
Paints her nails black and her index red.
I know she says this,
but really wants that.
I know what makes her toes curl
I know what she likes
And how she likes it.
I read her like an open book,
Bold font size 45.
She wants to know me,
To explore ourselves together.
But I recognize her from afar,
So how could she ever know me…

Meet me in Valhalla
When the battle's done
The cries of enemies long slain
Have faded one by one
Hold my hand, brave brother
As our glory's crowned in blood
The sword strikes deep but still
Our souls will rise above the mud
O warrior, our destiny was
To fall in foreign lands
Within our veins flow rivers strange
Our mouths pour forth with sand
We do not fear the bitter dark
That waltzes round our eyes
Hold my hand, brave brother
Led by the Valkyrie we die
We march on toward golden shields
To fight under burning suns
Meet me in Valhalla
When the battle's won