I am the bad                                                                           you are the good
the sad                                                                                                 the happy
the angry                                                                                            the mellow
I see half-empty                                                                        you see half-full
                                      but we get along because
I have a piece of good                                                   you have a piece of bad
a piece of happy                                                                              a piece of sad
a piece of mellow                                                                        a piece of angry
a sight of half-full                                                               a sight of half-empty
a little of you                                                                                      a little of me

me                                                                                                                    you
I trust too easily                                                           you trust slowly, deeply
I am broken                                                       you have not yet been touched
I throw myself into "love"                 you throw yourself into what you love
I believe what people say to me      you take everything with a grain of salt

my smile is a lie                                                                           you laugh truly
      but I love you                                                         and I hope you love me
                                         because i'd do anything you ask
                                         because you are more than a friend
                                             you are my sister
                                         and sisters stay.

february 14th,
you came into school late
carrying a dozen real, red roses
and one fake, feather rose
held them behind your back as you hugged me,
told me you loved me
And handed me the roses,
saying,
"I'll love you till the last one dies, baby girl."
and i smiled at you
and held your hand
letting myself believe you.
But, as usual,
roses withered away
and that last,
unlucky 13,
went up in flames
with us.