You’re the Amy to my Schumer, the Chelsea to my Handler, you are the lemon to my salt, and that salt to my tequila. You are the little black dress to my high heels, the red to my wine. You are the clothes to my backpack. The bunkbed to my hostel. You are the mushrooms to my pizza. The french fries to my ketchup. And we both know how much I LOVE and you HATE ketchup.
You’re the turtle to my eagle (our spirit names).
You are food to my soul.
And together we’ve chased the sun through a tonne of cities. I’ve lost count of how many.
And we’ve held hands, and held each other’s hair. I helped you when you couldn’t dress yourself. And we got each other back on our feet, on our trains and on our planes and we continued on.
You put the friend in friendship, man, the sun in a sunny day, the inappropriate in an appropriate conversation.
You’re the light that I needed during a travelling panic attack.
You are the college friend I never saw coming. The sister from another mister.
And I love yah long time,