Five years younger than my brother’s current age,
I met my constant other half and savior,
I meet on her front step every seventh day,
at 8:37 pm each time.
Every sixth day we walk towards the weekend together,
and for the past five days from then, at three hours prior,
we sit and laugh about the same topic,
probably for the hundredth time.
Every 2,400 seconds a bell overhead rings,
and for each time I step, a notification from her doubles.
The speed at which I type to her triples,
my excitement to see her skyrockets,
and the laughter we have from the prices that had raised
a dollar from last year holds strong.
For when I met her at eight years younger than my current age,
I had no clue my life would change for the better.
Each even year of our time spent together,
through hardships and doubts,
I wouldn’t think twice about sticking with anyone else.
Because for one time I cry,
she gives me thirty words of reassurance.
For every half of an accomplishment I make,
she gives me praises for the next 48 hours.
And when I struggle,
she keeps the same one hand reaching out to me,
to lean on. For support.
So when she has half of a cry,
I’ll double her number of words of reassurance.
For every quarter of an accomplishment she makes,
I’ll give her my praise for 24 hours more.
And when she struggles,
I’ll hold out both of my two hands to help her steady.
Because out of 8 billion people who walk this planet,
she’s the only best friend I want.
