au revoir.

this girl pours water for you. quenches my thirst with her arms. and when she leaves, my mouth becomes dry. this girl holds your hand at the right time, always, and when i say hand, i really mean heart. this girl will hold your feet, too, if that makes you feel better. this girl who cartwheels around me months after a back surgery that i never once saw her cry over. this girl is a giver but will take my tears and take my hugs and take my sighs and my pleas. my pleas that say please please don't go. don't leave me for france. don't leave me for the unfamiliar and the exciting. can't you just stay under the covers of my mother's comforter for a little longer.