the saying 'a picture is worth one thousand words'
to her it isn't true, because my best friend writes a picture in one thousand different ways,
two thousand, painting over the canvas one sentence at a time
then destroys it all and leaves a trail of paper shreds.
my best friend prefers anonymity
and i watch her hide in crowds
and leave the poem at the door with no name.
she likes her name - she likes that it's the one thing that's different about her
but i think she would be different if she stopped hiding her face in her hair.
my best friend is painfully quiet
and shy; or so she likes to tell people when she finds her voice
but I've watched her talk to the neighbour we called a witch, and find out the names of all her cats
i've watched her knock on doors and call the offices of politicians
i've watched her take the microphone and sing with a voice that shook, and win a prize she treasured
i've watched her jump the cliff first and talk to him before we could tell her to
so maybe in her pinky finger she's shy
but quiet doesn't mean shy and careful doesn't mean quiet and my best friend is not careful nor quiet
my best friend constructs tightropes of words
and in the clouds of imagining she jumps
a prompt from poetri 'write a poem as though you were your own best friend' so yeah slightly weird but there you go. poetri's is much better so go read it! https://writetheworld.com/groups/1/shared/200897/version/410151