Jessica Gee

January 14, 2009
When we were young
I always wanted to play with you
And your best friends.
You would not let me.

When we got a little older
We would often fight about
Whose stuff was whose.
And who had to pick up what mess
Because the other never made it.

Remember when mom left?
And dad was gone too often?
And all we had was each other?
And it no longer matter whose
Stuff was whose and who made what mess?
Because your stuff was my stuff.
And my stuff was your stuff.
And we would make the mess together
Because we were each others best friends.

Now you live in Tennessee, with your boyfriend.
And I still live in Michigan, about to graduate.
And we still remain best friends even if we
Don’t live across the hallway anymore.

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