When you asked me if there was still something there, I wonder if you heard the hesitation in my voice before I said, "No." Did you hear the wistfulness overflowing? You laughed and joked around, asking me once more. I said it again, this time without hesitation. And yet . . . why do I smile when I see you calling? Did you ever once ask why I still take your midnight calls?
In a few weeks I get to see you again. I wonder what that will be like. Will it be the same as always? I see you, I smile, we laugh together. Everything is easy; it always is. I settle into a familiar contentness, only you. You're with someone else. Bad timing. It always was. I was too late and you were too early. I didn't notice, until the moment had passed by. I wonder if we would have stood a chance? Probably not, but there's always that "what if?" I wonder if you know the questions I ask myself now and then.
Why do we wish for the things we can never have? Why is it all so complicated and yet so simple? A million and one questions, yet the same answer to each one.
Because we were once and always have been . . . friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment