#24

Friends forgive me graciously.
Y says it is okay if my poems 
are flat. If I fail at badminton
serve, my sister shows me 
how to do it right. I put my 
guard down and tell my 
childhood friend I’ve forgotten 
how to be myself; she comes 
over with ice cream and 
flowers. B sends me voice 
notes between his chores 
when he knows I can’t do 
it anymore. T lets me cry in 
the car and still believes in 
me. My friends let me fail 
and still love me. So this is 
not the poem, they are.