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My best friend and I have this theory that parts of our soul come from the same star. Perhaps that explains why our lives seem to intertwine so closely and why we can always, without fail, make each other feel okay again.

To my best friend, my sister, these poems are for you. Here’s to many more years of love and sisterhood, coffee shop hopping and late-night FaceTime sessions.


poem i (my best friend, my sister)

my best friend is a girl made of ink and parchment chamomile and wildflowers

i could talk to her for hours could laugh and joke and sing bad songs with her for days

what would i do without lazy afternoons in coffee shops filled with hot chocolate smells and the steam from her peppermint tea or her face on the screen of my phone when i have fallen half in love with yet another pretty artsy boy? (you know what they say about poets i guess)

what would i do without her who would i send my favourite songs to? the ones that make me cry or make my heart squeeze with love who will i read books with? gasp and laugh and gossip about the characters as if they are our friends too

who would i be without my best friend, my soul mate? the one i go to when my bones are weary and my heart is weighty and bruised i would still be me, sure, i’ve never been one to believe that people complete people but i know, in the very depths of my soul that without my best friend my head would be much messier my smile rarer and my life much much darker

to my best friend my sister thank you, and i love you endlessly

i am so lucky to get to grow up with you

poem ii (midnights)

tonight i am reminded that my best friend,

{beautiful, kind and strong gentle like a feather drifting in the breeze,

and powerful, part doctor, part soldier, who will heal your hurts and charge into battle just to protect your fragile heart}

can hurt too, even though she is a gift to the earth that she walks upon even though she could hold the moon in her palm if she wanted to

i know that so long as my best friend has her place in the constellation i hang all my hopes and dreams upon that i can face anything that i can be anything that i can be frail and dishevelled broken, bloodied, bruised and still smile, chipped teeth and all because she is there because she is full of endless wonderful light that brightens up those weary midnights that can weigh so heavy on the soul

but every soldier who would break their bones for you, every hurricane, every gentle feather, needs someone to love them hard and fight for them harder when the moon sings songs of sadness in their ears so i know i must be an earthquake, a warrior, a kiss from the evening sun for her and i must love my best friend fiercely, as though my very life depends on it

for we all have lonely midnights, and we all have fractured hearts, but with love and sisterhood rooted in our very bones -

we can know, dear reader, that things will be brighter in the morning

so good night, my sister, my best friend, i love you

please get some rest and drift into soft and rose-coloured dreams

- meg baxter


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