He is like a page from a book;
and I don't want to finish
I.
I guess I should start off by how we met
we met at a place that was supposed to put our lives on the right path
and I'm pretty sure our first conversation was based on either music or books
and because I'd never met a boy that liked; let alone read John Green
I decided that he wasn't that bad at all
and I suppose he thought I wasn't that bad either
II.
I don't exactly know when it happened, but suddenly
we were best friends
he was the one that I would tell all my secrets too; and he became the first person
that read my poetry
and I would read his too, of course
and suddenly
there was this unexplainable attachment to the boy that loved the Beatles
I'd never actually cared so much for someone who wasn't family
but to be honest, at this point he knew more about me then most of my family did
and I was more than okay with that
III.
the thing is, when you care for someone so much, you don't really realize it until they're gone
it wasn't that big of a deal
I was mad at him for something so stupid that I'm mad at myself thinking about it
I only stayed mad a couple of hours; of course,
how could you stay mad at the one person who understands you better than you do
yourself?
But in the heat of madness, I imagined my life without him, and it was then that I realized
I could never be mad at him; not really
because he was too important for me to even think about losing
that was when I realized that I loved the boy who loved the Beatles
lV.
I don't know what to do without him
I don't know what to do without his poems and his songs
I don't know what to do without his death threats and his accent impressions
I don't know what to do without his supporting hugs and his reassuring smiles
I don't know what to do without him
V.
He is a page from a book;
and this is the last chapter; and it is ending soon
but
there's always a sequel
                                                        
­(h.l)