Best Friend

The devil’s ruse
Call it a favour, you don’t get to choose.
Such a pity.

Someone to cry with - to cry for.
Someone to die with - to die for.
Someone to lie with - to lie for.
And lie they will.

On their whims, how swiftly we fold and flay.
On their tunes a heart soothes its dismay.
How they ruin and repair, entrust and ensnare, break in despair.

If love was shameless and butt naked in the streets, a best friend would gladly, alongside it, indifferently streak.
The kind of friend that’s hard to find, one that devours the heart and plagues the mind.
Unblemished. Unkind. One of a kind.

I haven’t the words to describe such rare treasures.
For divine creations can barely ever be summed up with human tongues.
Not ten of my lives could be worth the pain of living with the loss of one.
I hope I find none.