To my BFF

You were the calm, smart one beside a powerhouse man

Working effectively, efficiently and seemingly happily

Until it bust apart and I let you store your life in my attic

And you went home, to a small place, to remember the bits you grew from

And I was impressed that you threw into the air a life that from the outside seemed so so good

But it was not and you listened and left

And I visited your 1960s architectural haven

And got crushed with you in a reggae club changing room

Hiding in a car while your friend tagged graffitti in a country where that crime is almost worth a hanging

I gave you a book.

Blue cover. Colombia.

And we read it by the modern fireplace. Crackling.

And we knew we would go. We promised.

And we went. Big blue skies and empty islands and hiding our age from 22 year olds boys.

And milkshakes in the market and coconut rice and slow dancing with soldiers

And a racing boat on choppy seas and swinging hammocks where you found fun and I realised my own pain that would take me another year to creep out of

With you, always there, a green light to chat to when I needed

With the same high hopes and not letting go of what we deserve

Your sun and horse print on my wall in Portugal.

Blu tacked to my tippee wall

To make me strong, my BFF


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