My friend, I have written you like this

I have written you my best friend into a specialised poetry 

The Achilles, the Hercules ; the untouchable hero 

in a puzzle piece put in place intentionally ; our friendship displayed on a white wall 

I like him beyond words 

Even though ‘like’ makes you romanticize all things 

I think telling you the truth is incredibly more brilliant so take this 

brief confession :

Yes, we do have a shaky start of meeting, bonding over small talks and shared love for books 

And in all honesty, it is simple, not quite obvious; pure 

I wouldn’t say it blossoms out in utmost perfection like that of a beautiful sunshine 

In fact, it is a bottomless pit, bloody as we tip-toe, play and argue  over one umbilical cord. 

Sure, we are two separate poles in one magnet 

a wound from a dark poetry that dry us then stitch back up in tears from a stalemate 

On the forefront, he is an organ donor and I am the recipient from a time when my insides had to be removed for all the people to view 

We are victims of sheer dissection and his time is preserved for me 

Gossip mongers and fake friends look so hard for the code behind our secret actions ; the eye movement and emphatic words 

Our diaphragms continue to expand; breathing heavily as he lends his bone-marrow to cure my cancer-filled body as I let his overworked mind rest in my warm heart 

Our wrists leak out with fresh blood and we need each other like tight tourniquets to keep our souls in our life beds

Most of the time, we are silent ; contained sobs in a period of no contact 

sometimes we anger one another that we push ourselves away over long points and tired excuses we forget what they are 

Absolutely, our knuckles are bruised,  rough and messy lives, changing dead skins, we are put together by our focused warmth. 

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