Three Broken Friends

Watching snow fall
through barren winter trees,
her fragile smile leaks
through cracks in her heart,
like mine, a threadbare coat
we wear together.

Her hands tremble,
mine are steadier today.
Yesterday the opposite.
I reach across the rift,
take her hand.
Not to fix,
just to hold.
And tomorrow
she'll do the same for me.

Each of us carries
the weight of our wounds,
different shapes,
but the same ache,
while another friend
confronts her ghosts
among gray walls
and lab coats.

When the nights are darkest,
we find each other,
broken friends,
holding our pieces together,
forming something whole enough
to keep going.