He gave me words back

He gave me words back,
and it may be the most considerate thing
anyone could have done for me that week.

Oh, my friends love me.
I know it with a calm surety.
they just love me in their ways,
which is honestly fantastic because
the world would be boring if it were all the same.

I hand out words a lot,
words strung together with care and precision
(or the precision of "shit I have 5 minutes to write this")
because I'm better with those,
at least when they're written.

I don't always get them back,
at least,
not in the ways I give them.

So the moments I get them,
they stick out.

Like when a little freshman
wrote me a silly poem
and I almost cried because
it was the first poem anyone wrote
for me about me.

When the cat that feels like fog
asked what I was,
what I felt like,
and I responded, "I dunno. People don't tell me back."
he looked me in the eyes and said,
"water."
(so forgive me,
but I'll be paraphrasing him later
to compliment myself)

When I handed my love music that made me think of him
(which isn't even my thing,
it's a way to love someone else gave me)
and now I'm bouncing in my chair
as he's burning "the first" set of music in return.

the cat handed me words first,
and I shall not forget that.