How is a Person like a Writing Desk?

 

As the sun bets down on my face, i think, i strive to reach the inner machinations of my fevered mind.

 

They aren't both wooden, that's for sure.

Though I've been left by some with hearts like an oak tree, steady and unmoving in their stance

No, that's not it.

 

How is a friend like a writing desk?

They aren't both silent, that's a fact.

Though i've known those who spoke nary a word, like a scrub, and ones with spiky thorns, and no tact.

That's not it.

 

Then it hit me, like a rock to the face, lying dehydrated on the island beach, alone, adrift, starving.

A friend isn't like a writing desk.

They are an ear

A lifeforce

a rock 

a grin

an embrace

a brother

a sister

a person to be with

be next to

to miss

to fight

to love

something i cant

wont

never will

never can

LIVE WITHOUT

 

And yet, a friend is like a writing desk

Because

 

 

A

 

Friend

 

Is 

 

Just

 

Like

 

 

Home

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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