To the girl and her Doc Martens,
who I met in the shadows
of a birthday party.
You were smart, and you were funny
and you hate crowds just as much as I do.
You wear your clothes black
and flash a glare at anyone who comes too near.
I didn’t realize why you were so quick to seem angry.
But, as we grew closer,
I grew closer to your fears.
You’re from a land in the east,
The southern half of a tiny peninsula.
You came here with an accent thicker than
Your mother’s red bean paste.
And you were scared.
But I was scared, too.
Maybe that’s why we got so along.
I just lost a friend of my own
I’ve never told you this,
but you were my first friend in a while.
I don’t know what I would do
had I not met you.
You put my broken pieces back together.
So, to the girl and her Doc Martens;