I surround the pillow with the blanket and imagine it’s flesh and skin. I press my tear soaked cheek against it and hold on tight. My arms wrapped around something warm. It’s enough to still my heart. Enough for one more night.

I have known the love of friendship more intimately than any other. And while I may be biased by my experiences I believe it to be the highest and purest form of love. For it is not determined or bound by duty, blood, biological instinct or legal contracts. It is a choice and, as such, allows us to keep our wings.