the one about friends

you don’t know what a friend is until you’ve shivered with that person on a bench as they release everything they’ve kept in while their eyes become small oceans, until that same person has listened to you vent then revealed the flaws in your attitude, because friends aren’t afraid to call such things out over coffee, yes, friends ask the gut-wrenching questions that you fight against answering as you wince, twisting your hair, and they smirk at that familiar mannerism, yes, friends see you when you’re wounded but also when you’re stitched up, and love you anyway or perhaps because.