Filtered Friends

I have myself a best friend

A friend that's clearer than a crystal 

and sees through me like celophane

An unstoppable force passing through that immovable object

I love them. They make me be who I am. 

They see me. They call me good looking

and say my hair is pretty. 

My sarcastic remarks cut down drastically

I smile a bit more genuinely

I'm a lot more sad when they see me

My body a shade of blue that can't be described

and they make me want to be the red 

they know is my favorite color. 

Friends are filters, but not them.

Not them. No, they know I lie 

because I can't accept I'm not as smart as I thought

and I act confident when I shake like a leaf at a phonecall

They know that I'm stronger when I'm near them

That I write my poetry but always procrastinate

That the stories I tell aren't as exciting as I think

That when I tell someone I love them I mean it

They know that my silence speaks volumes

and that each silence means something different.

They see me with less of a filter 

than I see me.

Filters, friends.

But not them. 

My silence speaks volumes

And when I'm with them

My silence says I love you

And I mean it.

My filters squeeze out the love.

Simply put, without filters:

I mean it. 

This poem is about: 
My family


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