He asked me, “What does it take to be your friend?”

I looked at him.

Silently weighing him against 

My shaping of what friendship is to me.

I watch him watch me watching him 

And then his eyes trail elsewhere.

“My eyes are up here,” I tell him. 

Then I say, “well that depends.”

He said, “depends on what?”

I said, “on whether or not you’ve ever been friends with a womyn you didn’t want to fuck.”

Eyes wide. Steps back. Jaw dropped. 

He said, “what?”

I asked, “hard of hearing now?”

Watched him silently contemplate my question. 

Watched his mouth open and close trying not to lie. 

Watched the gears turning work through a decision. 

So I asked him, “if I deem you worthy of friendship. Will you honor me?”

Looked around confused like I was down on one knee with a proposal.

Giggled at his slight discomfort. I grace him with a smile. 

“Don’t worry. Be easy,” I say. 

He says, “somehow this don’t feel so easy.”

I smile. Part lips and say, “to be friends with me takes work. You have my friendship for as long as you choose to honor it.”

He nods. “And if I mess up?”

So I tell him, “you will. I will. We will. But if you’re willing to make amends I will always meet you in the middle.”

Honest | Let Go 

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