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Dear Beka.
I know your you're an old man
And you're into some sappy shit
Like old novels and art and poems
Since I'm no author
I tried to paint
But I really fucking suck
That made me really angry I'm just not patient okay
A poem it is, then
But rhymes are fucking hard
So are metaphors
Because they don't fit you
You're no metaphor
You are no sweet kiss of spring
or the first breath of winter
(and I totally didn't steal that line from The Last Unicorn)
You are just you
And that makes you awesome beautiful a good friend perfect
You don't need to be compared to something
Or hide behind pretty words
I want to make you happy
You deserve the whole fucking world
But I'm no auhtor author or artist
And I suck at poems
All I can do is try
That's more than I do for most people
And I really do try hard
Because you're special
I want to write so much more
But I'm so bad at words
And it's honestly summed up very easily
I'm just so scared to even write it
It's dizzying
It's scary
It's overwhelming
But I'd like to think you'll catch me
That's what you always do, right?
Even though it's gonna change everything
Since it's nothing a friend should feel
Beka,
I love you.