Sick

I don’t think I would mind

If I got sick from you

Because I’ve never seen you so happy

And I don’t know what to do

Your laugh almost put me to a stop

And the temple punch you struck

You always seemed so incredibly bitter

And just down on all your luck

So hearing you laugh in a way I’ve never heard

Even with your greatest friend

Made a small realization grow in my heart

That I don’t have the heart to see to the end

Because you hate college and “all that school”

But academia is my life

I think we’re both too proud to be good friends

Too much just taken in strife

But I think we could be glorious for a little

“Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” comes to mind

So I don’t think I’d care if you got me sick

I wouldn’t complain about being behind

Not one word about a sniffle or cough

Not one moan from an aching head

Even if your illness made me sluggish

Or confined me to my bed

Because I could rest back on the pillows and smile

Thinking about this strange little love

Of fighting, blood, friendship, and intensity

Wrapped in boxing gloves

***

A poem about friendship.