Friday the 13th

Ah. The 13th. On a Friday, no less. An unlucky day? Maybe. My days have all been feeling kind of shitty lately. So you know, when I’m feeling shitty, I write poetry. This poem is dedicated to my good, true friend Taylor Browne. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope life is great. I hope that there are people around you that love you, and whom you love in return.


Taller than most, he has that
cleverness in his eye, like
a protagonist should. You

can’t tell how he’s good
with the ladies, you just
know he is. Fine. It’s a

secret, you accept it, but
you wish you knew, wish
you had his swagger, his

flippant attitude that doesn’t
fade even in the face of danger.
Whether he wants the attention

or not, he gets it. Gets it, and
more. Gets it. He just gets it.
Like an American reincarnation
of the Doctor; like an older
brother you always should have
had; like a boyfriend that knows
what’s best for you,
but lets you
find out on your own…
He’s kind of like that.

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