My Best Friend

He sits at the table twiddling with his thumbs,
nervously waiting to talk
As he speaks my chest gets heavier,
He looks up and has sorrow in his eyes,
and I look at him with sadness.

He leaves our house for two months,
a slow time without anyone.
Awaiting his return I sit
by the window. Searching for his face
lost to the crowd. I mostly see
friends and strangers
who come in and out of my house.
I know how little I hear from him,
he rarely calls.
When he does call, I smile
knowing I’m going to hear his voice.
Straining to keep his voice in my head
so I can remember him when he’s gone.

The day he finally comes home I give him a long embrace.
He tells me he’s missed me and that he’s better now.
I know how hard it took him to be here,
how hard it’s going to be for him
he will never be perfect, but in my eyes-he already is.
There is always a chance
that he might go back to that place,
bidding farewell to his loved ones,
who love him unconditionally .
But I will never give up on him. He is my best friend.

He tells me that dreams are everywhere, even when you’re awake.
The few times I see him are cherished memories,
when he hugs me everything is alright,
he is my best friend, my brother.