Your friendship is a rose full of thornes.

You drive your thorns into my insecurities and existence.

You intervene in my foremost discussion. 

You refuse to have an open ear.

But I still love you.

Though I have to remind you to mind your mouth,

You still make me laugh.

How your skin colour reflects your cooking,

with fried rice or cajun mac-and-cheese.

How you sleep during movies.

How you fart all night long, 

and throughout the night.

How you always give me money,

even through the countless times 

I protested taking it.

How you jumped from one relationship.

Who had a man,

who was stuck behind a train,

on his way to the bathroom for over an hour.

To a man,

who refused to pick up the phone,

to painstakingly hear your voice of concern.

Life is a highway.

Filled with bumps and bruises,

that we faced together.

I loves you, Butthead.