The Language of Friendship

I imagined him walking up the stairs to the second floor in the pitch black, going home to no one eating his food alone. He brushed his hand over his waves like he'd always done. I bit her jaw and saw teeth marks. She got what she wanted. His eyes softened. Say hi to Matty for me. As I turned the corner, I heard the apartment door close. How does a playwright observe? Many people grew up in a house that was loving and complicated. You know we all have to do our own friend at some point. Each! And I really dislike funny poems or poems that are trying to be funny. They make me really mad because I think poems