Poetry For Friends Forever Mga Nobela at Kwento

"She left me. She's a cold-hearted bitch too. All she desired was popularity and how I was a heckle to it. She tossed our friendship as if it meant nothing. Isn't it amazing? Every girl in my life leaves me. First, my best friend without any explanation. Now, my bitchy girlfriend." "I tell you what." I grabbed my unfinished plate from the side. "One day a girl will fall in love with you and she will know what it means to stay loyal. She will not try to keep you away from your friends and family and will love you for who you are, not for your money. She will love you so much that you will forget about Isha." He grinned, blinked his eyes at me and bit his lower lip. "Why Isha can't be you?" I

Nothing mattered to us other than each other’s company. That was one of the best days of my life. I turned a few more pages. I noticed an interesting pattern about our friendship. The next poem centred round the subjects of love and trust. ‘Sometimes I run, sometimes I hide, and sometimes I’m scared of you. But what I really want is to hold you tight and be with you day and night.’ I learnt from her diary how much she eternally loved me.

You always want what you can't have. My voice echoed through the venue, carried to every corner by the speakers. Terrence's face turned pale. He opened his mouth to explain, but I didn't give him the chance. "To you, the unattainable is always the most desirable. But once you have something, you never cherish it. Someone like you doesn't deserve to talk about love at all." In the end, Terrence walked away, looking utterly lost and broken. I thought that would be the last time our paths ever crossed in this lifetime.

“Promise me you won't forget me.” “I could never forget you. You're my best friend.” I caressed her cheek. She smiled, and this time, the smile stayed. “Yes, I am. So keep that in mind always.” “I will.” “You were mine first, before Dad happened. So I don't think it's fair for me to lose you because of it. You and he were a phase. You and I are forever. Right?” I nodded frantically. “Of course. We're forever.” She cracked out a laugh. “Are you gonna make new friends?”

Within the hour, I was trending everywhere as the infamous "Fake Best Friend" The Internet wanted to tear me apart. Everyone claimed I had been jealous of Elise and deliberately tricked her into eating poisonous mushrooms out of spite. I contacted Elise on WhatsApp and demanded she explain herself publicly. Instead, she blocked me immediately and started livestreaming online. The poisoned classmates were there with her. Elise wept into the camera. "It's all my fault for trusting the wrong person. She told me poisonous mushrooms could let us see the answers to the SAT. I trusted her because I thought she was my best friend. I never imagined she was lying to me.

“Friends.” “Friends.” That night, I did the most stupid thing that I will ever do in my life. And that is to be friends with the woman I love the most.

"Max Cairncross, I will ask you one last time. Are you lending me the money or not?" I said each word clearly. "No. I am not." Dylan completely broke down. He yanked a necklace out from under his collar. It held a transparent bottle pendant, smaller than his pinky. Inside the bottle was a rolled-up strip of paper that said: "Max Cairncross is my only best friend." I had one around my neck too. Mine said: "Dylan Price is my only best friend." We gave each other those bottles after graduating high school. They symbolized lifelong friendship.

The tiny, folded slip of paper , Ethan Grant’s phone number , had become my personal religion. For fourteen agonizing days, it had lived tucked deep inside the stitching of my uniform apron, a burning coal against my skin. Two weeks. I had survived two weeks of perfect silence, two weeks of scrubbing floors and polishing secrets, pretending the warm pressure of his lips on my cheek had been nothing but a fever dream.

“Take it away, Caius!” I remained silent. “Great job!” Turning back around, she grabbed her shovel and continued our trek deeper into the ocean of marked graves. Her blonde ponytail swished back and forth as she sang. “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends. Make it last forever, friendship never ends.” A gust of wind passed through the headstones, ripping through the bows of the old willow trees planted in between every two dozen plots. Leaves skirted along the ground, crunching softly beneath our feet.

She chatted to me all the way there, relaying stories about sharks and turtles and one about her friend’s dad who missed a step and had to go to the first aid station to have his ankle wrapped. She told me the story from start to finish, including how the dad loved cycling and how sad her friend was that they weren’t able to go cycling together that next weekend. “They go every weekend, mommy. It’s their thing and they couldn’t do it.” Heart wrenching sadness flashed in her eyes. It was only there for a moment, but it bugged me. Was she sad because her friend hadn’t been able to go cycling with her dad for one weekend, or because she never would?