Paris

We’ve known each other for a few years now.
Some times I’m more fond of you than others.
But a few mornings ago might of been my favorite memory of you yet.

I remember your kind words, and forget the rest.
I’ve seen you cry and held your hands.
I know you’ve loved everyone except for me.

I am a friend to you, I hope that that’s still clear.
But we are just as lost as each other.
Maybe that’s just a sickness making us sicker.
But this town is so much less fun when you’re not around.

I wonder if you look back upon yourself as I look back upon the life I’ve seen.
Colors of the trees met with persistence and dedication.
Blue eyes and a brazen tongue, you are one of my favorite people.

When you return from the mountains you listen and my voice seems bolder.
My words are met with your remarks.
I like to speak to you.

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