I don't know much about your friends, but I know mine quite well. I know the way she wears her pockets. I know what's inside. Me and Rachel at the prom with matching shoes and matching dresses. We dance toe to toe. We dance together in the kitchen beside the plastic trays and through the hallways. Her wrists thin like razor blades. Her shadow cuts me. The candlelight starts to fade. Her thin wrists touch me. I don't know much about your friend, but she tells me stories now. She tells me about the space inside her window. She tells me where she hides. Me and Rachel on the lawn, our legs bone white and stretched out. We roll out shoulder blades around. Ribs crawl up our sides. We drink cold tea and then she holds me. chorus.