Dear best friend,
I cannot write you a letter as the thought of my words being printed and sent forever terrifies me more
Then the thought of them later being lost amongst your everyday
But my mouth can’t form the words
So, my fingers will have to write something similar, to lift my heart
Not that any of this will ever matter
Because you aren’t my best friend
But all other descriptions don’t fit you
Not the way some had potential to
Your official tag taped to your chest will always be ‘best friend’
The tunes played by the piano at my funeral will prove as much
But not the words in my grave
Down there they will be spoken in their true form
But life isn’t rooftops, drunken kisses, and back-breaking dances
It is diapers, making time, and holding back
It’s listening to songs, realizing you’re as far away from their meaning as you are from the person who wrote the tones
You tell me you love me, but not in the way I think, even though I keep thinking it is
That the one behind it all is you
While I was walking on bleeding glass on the brink of shattering
You danced your way, on the carpet of your lover; soft and safe away from getting hurt by the same thing that hurt me
And the real question is, can it be a crime if it is committed in the dark?
Is it one when the criminal never gets to see the crime scene and the glass?
I was Cinderella’s sisters, trying to adapt to the fantasy by cutting pieces of myself
While you wore the shoe perfectly, getting it handed to you by your Charming
But I am not hurt
I can listen to the songs we danced to and not cry
Because you are my best friend