Everyday I am surprised to find
that we are still friends.
Even after our summer of
stolen kisses, exploring fingers, and bodies entertwined.
I’m suprised to find that
our friendship was strong enough
to endure a romance and the fragmented aftermath.

I once said ‘Who you love is who you love’, and I could never
believe that anymore than I do
right now, as I wonder
how our girly sleepovers with painted nails, and curled hair
could have turned into a drunken ‘dont take your hands off of me.’

We shed our innocence ‘ages’ ago and we fell deeper when my lips started to hunger for yours.
We got so close we feared
no one could tell the
difference ever again.
So now there’s no going back.

I’ll spend the night with him
and he won’t mind
the time I spend with you
because you’re my best friend
and no one but our
conjoined shadows
would suspect my yearning
for us to be one.