I once had a friend.

She loved giving people

little, paper boats.

At least they weren’t cars,

because those were her end.

At least she didn’t drown,

she knew how to float.

But saying, “At least”

won’t bring her back.

Won’t bring back the smell

of lemon and cheesy snacks.

Won’t bring back

Phineas & Ferb binge-watching,

Won’t bring back

long texts of just talking.

We were never best friends,

but she was a good one.

A great one at that.

But saying that

won’t bring her back.

So when I sit here in tears,

I tell you her story.

From a girl who once met her,

but never got to know her.

I’m sorry I can’t say much.

But she was kind.

I loved her when I saw her,

because she lit up the room.

I don’t love anyone easily,

doesn’t matter if they’re family.

She was my friend,

she was patient,

hardworking.

She never slacked.

Dang, half the time,

I wish I _was_ her.

She loved dogs.

She loved her friends.

She loved rain,

and dancing in it.

I loved her personality,

because her passion

was visible in everything she did.

She played her cello,

with her heart

not her fingers.

She listened to music,

swaying with the voices

of high-ranged singers.

She smiled so pretty,

and I still wished I was her.

She was someone’s everything,

but she was a role model to me.

I never told her that.

So here I say,

I miss her, though I didn’t know

the real her behind the facade.

None of these thoughts

will ever bring her back.

It sounds absurd,

But maybe you’ll feel better,

because someone knew

the light she had,

even when they didn’t know _her_.