A Grateful Life Lived

I like writing for fun, and while I don’t pen a lot of poetry on my blog, it occasionally happens. Below is a piece I wrote in May 2025.

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I have a new friend—
Well...
I think we are friends.
It's been three years. I'm still not sure.

My friend—let's call her that for simplicity—
She thinks I judge her.
(I do)
She thinks I distrust her.
(I do)

I doubt her smile,
Her ease of living,
Her okayness with what I see as
Imperfection.

My face seethes with envy as I
Watch her laugh.
Watch her cry.
Watch her.

I despise her.
But I want to be like her,
My brave sort-of-friend.

I desire, increasingly,
To let her in.
I am aware, increasingly, I cannot.

My friend would dislike my home.
I think she wants more light, more air, 
(she does)
I don't think I'm ready yet.

Still.
I reach out with a scarred hand,
An averted eye,
And a sliver of hope.
Will this girl see me?
(she does)

In the glass of her eyes and the joy of her smile,
I think I see myself.
Maybe I make it out.
(I do)