Filtered Friends
I have myself a best friend
A friend that's clearer than a crystal
and sees through me like celophane
An unstoppable force passing through that immovable object
I love them. They make me be who I am.
They see me. They call me good looking
and say my hair is pretty.
My sarcastic remarks cut down drastically
I smile a bit more genuinely
I'm a lot more sad when they see me
My body a shade of blue that can't be described
and they make me want to be the red
they know is my favorite color.
Friends are filters, but not them.
Not them. No, they know I lie
because I can't accept I'm not as smart as I thought
and I act confident when I shake like a leaf at a phonecall
They know that I'm stronger when I'm near them
That I write my poetry but always procrastinate
That the stories I tell aren't as exciting as I think
That when I tell someone I love them I mean it
They know that my silence speaks volumes
and that each silence means something different.
They see me with less of a filter
than I see me.
Filters, friends.
But not them.
My silence speaks volumes
And when I'm with them
My silence says I love you
And I mean it.
My filters squeeze out the love.
Simply put, without filters:
I mean it.