I could use another cigarette
But don't worry daddy, I'm not addicted yet.
One too many drinks tonight and I miss you
Like you were mine.
My silver phone buzzes against the dark hardwood of my nightstand, and there is a momentary lightshow of blue as the screen comes to life. Even before the name appears, I know it's you. Some people might think that's romantic, but it's really only truthful; I can guess it's you because that's who it is 90% of the time. And I would bet any one of my limbs that the text message waiting for me at 7:50 on a Sunday morning has your name attached.
When it comes to you, I'm rarely wrong. It's from you- of course- and it's something trivial but not unimportant, and I read it with the vague knowledge that I'm not getting back to sleep this morning. You would be a teenager to be up before 8:00 on a weekend; there are so many things you do that I know about, things I've discovered through hundreds of text messages and even more minutes on the phone. They are things you tell me in the moments I am alone with you, grabbing lunch or going shopping or just walking and talking one Friday afternoon.
And what amazes me is you're blind to it all.
I just poured my heart out
there's bits of it on the floor
And I take what's left of it and rinse it under cold water
And call him up for more.
We have always fit, always. Even back when I was fighting it all, we clicked and it was so damn obvious. I've never run out of things to say to you, never been completely uncomfortable around you, never been really nervous in telling you something. We make each other laugh; don't you know that I'm just happy to be around you? Don't you know it doesn't matter what we do or where we go or who we're with? Don't you realize that the only thing that's important to any situation we're in is that we're in it together?
I told you the green looked good on you, and you looked a little surprised but thanked me anyway. It occurs to me that you're not used to being complimented; your current relationship consists of you building her up and her breaking you down. But see, here's the thing, apparently I'm the homewrecker and the fact that we can laugh and be serious with each other means I'm screwing you behind her back.
I never said it isn't what I'd like, only what I know is right.
Vague sound of rain
Pierces through my song again
But I get distracted by the way his toes move when he plays
So I will let it burn.
So you play in crowded coffeeshops, and everyone is half-listening. But I devote all of my attention to you, to your fingers as they move across the strings and how your entire body moves when you play. I listen to the song; the name of it is on the tip of my tongue, but I let it go. It's not important. What matters is you're on that couch and I'm on this one and she should be here but she's not, she's never there, and if I were something less of a woman I'd have pointed that out to you by now. But instead I keep my mouth shut because it's me and it's you and I just want you to be happy, whatever that means.
And maybe that means that I find myself giving your girlfriend relationship advice because she thinks you don't talk anymore (funny, I agree) and that you're cutting off communication (funny, isn't it the other way around?). And she's jealous but she's also sad, and I try not to think about the implications of how much I'm working against myself when I tell her to just sit down and talk to you. And I try not to rave about you too much, I try to paint you as the best friend, but she's never trusted me and to be honest now is probably not a good time to start. I wonder if she'll ever find out how I feel, I wonder what being vindicated feels like. I wouldn't know.
Well in case you failed to notice,
In case you failed to see,
This is my heart bleeding before you,
This is me down on my knees.
I am learning what it means to sacrifice. I'm discovering what it really means to give it up, because I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to smile when you talk about whatever relationship you are or aren't in, so I push all of my biases out of the way. Before all other things you are my friend, you're someone I love and care about and if you're happy I'm happy. But the problem right now is that you're not, and I'm not, and I don't think you will be. But you're a man who refuses to give up, so you're trying to save something that was lost to you a long time ago. There is not a damn thing I can do about that.
Skipping beats, blushing cheeks, I am struggling
Daydreaming bed scenes in the corner cafe
And then I'm left in bits recovering tectonic tremblings
You get me every time.
I'm only human. The problem is that I know friends don't think about friends like this, so I push out the thoughts that creep up on me and concentrate on keeping my eyes closed. You've no idea what being near to you does to me, and I don't intend to tell you. I don't plan for you to ever know that part of me, so I pull it together and remind myself that you are spoken for.
People tell me we should be together. I tell them that we're not. They tell me we're perfect for each other. I tell them you're taken. I defend you, and it's enough to stop the talking for a little while. But eventually we're going to have to answer to the implications and acknowledge the facts; we make CDs for each other and you got me a present when I wasn't well and we get along better than you and your girlfriend do. But I don't bring any of these things up, because I am the friend. I am always the friend. And for as long as you need me to, that's what I'll keep being.
If I've gone overboard
Then I'm begging you
To forgive me in my haste
When I'm holding you so
Close to me.
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