The Friend Who Brought Fries

You showed up with a paper bag of fries,

And said, “I've brought you dinner. Don't be rude.”

I'd spent the afternoon rehearsing lies

About how I was fine. You brought me food.

You know the laugh I use when things go wrong,

The one that tries to prove I'm doing fine;

You let me play the same ridiculous song,

And sing the chorus, badly, line for line.

We've missed last trains and argued where to eat,

Made promises to meet and turned up late;

And somehow every story feels complete

When you're the one who says, “Now tell me straight.”

When everything goes sideways, there you stand,

With snacks, bad jokes, and no idea what to do;

You make no promise things will go as planned,

But I can face the morning next to you.