With a skip, I scuttled into your side and smiled just a bit too bright,
your voice had made me run outside to see who the hell you were.
And I brushed aside the ones I knew and jumped to meet you there,
in the crowd of people that mattered absolutely more than me.
With a handshake we introduced ourselves, seeing past formalities,
we hugged and I knew right away I would become your “her.”
A meal away from a best friend was the night the sky became our joke,
a slow dance and a blanket, how that moon set our chuckles free.
And we cried,
“Oh. I love you. A little too much, And never enough.”
We laughed, we sat, we sang, we’re more than friends.
And when we kissed, our lips felt silly doing something that darn close,
They weren’t ready to commit themselves to a thing called “us.”
So we cried,
“Oh. I love you. A little too much. And never enough.”
We danced, we drank, we hugged, we’re just best friends.
Like a shot our lives exploded, into a painted canvas, colors mashed,
a something that Mister Whistler never would have drawn:
no dimensions that made sense and a spectrum far too bright to mix
a fault of mine, ‘cause my orange favorite doesn’t blend.
Our philosophies crisscrossed like mad with Emerson and Keats,
living through love, loving to laugh and sitting on the lawn,
There we danced some more and spoke of stars and Giving Trees,
and a garden full of gerbera daisies that we could (together) tend.
And we cried,
“Oh. I love you. A little too much, And never enough.”
We laughed, we sat, we sang, we’re more than friends.
And when we slept together, we just laughed cause we felt awkward
doing something that seriously meant something serious.
So we cried,
“Oh. I love you. A little too much. And never enough.”
We danced, we drank, we hugged, we’re just best friends.
Once a tornado spotted us on a hill (dancing again) with the clever hobos,
with mittens on our hands, converses on my feet, I wore a pair of Ray Bans too.
We sipped nectar from the gods who laughed at our mere complexities,
how could mortals mismatch their friendship for a love such as this?
And each night we bathed each other in a silence we both understood,
quoting films Michael would balk at and would turn Drew Casper blue.
Quickly falling right in step with your friends, and you - in turn - with mine,
ending almost every gang fest with a not quite unwelcomed kiss.
And we cried,
“Oh. I love you. A little too much, And never enough.”
We laughed, we sat, we sang, we’re more than friends.
And then one night I sat up realizing something wasn’t quite right,
my mind, my heart, my soul didn’t love you like that,
my body had felt it coming, every time we touched in that way,
And it was okay cause deep inside I’d wanted to let “us” go.
So I cried,
“Oh. I love you. A little too much. And never enough.”
We danced, we drank, we hugged, we’re just best friends.
A constant stream of notes from both my pen and voice come out,
onto paper, writing songs and plays and poems all about you.
And the astronauts look down from their place on the moon saying, “Dance!
Like you did! Like you do! Like you are! Like you should!”
And I just cry,
“Oh. I loved you. A little too much, And never enough.”
I laugh, I sit, we sing, we’re just best friends.
And - of course - at times I think of you when I’m dancing (with someone else)
which is when I call to tell you and we smile like we did then.
And we cry,
“Oh. I love you. A little too much. And never enough.”
We dance, we drink, we hug, we are best friends.
And we cry,
“Oh. I love you. A little too much. And never enough.”
We dance, we drink, we hug, we are best friends.
3 years ago
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