I remember reading about how
beautiful she was. Hell, it'still
up there, in your on-line journal.
I could go read it again if I wanted.
But I won't. I'd rather
open my phone, open my texts,
and read the ones you sent me.
The ones that say I'm beautiful.
But you didn't really mean it like
that. Just said it because I
was your best friend. And
that's what best friends are for.