I throw my hands up in frustration.
My tears still streaming from our last conversation.

Although on paper, her words still stung,
Now I sit in defeat, my head still hung.

Her letter for the very next day,
Would bring forth what is left to say.
Thoughts of love and words of hate,
Oh why do we have to fight?

Hers is the boyfriend over which we fight,
But not over any mistaken night.

It is the hour of coveted time,
Those seconds and minutes and days sublime.

One of us, either me or him,
Will find our calendar emptily dim.

No more Friday nights continuously going,
On and on and always knowing,
That your best friend’s time is always free
For trips to the mall and cups of iced coffee.

But now I must know that I have to let go,
And she will choose as she pleases,
Under God, and of grace, and plenty of sneezes.

Sooner or later, she will return.
With more knowledge which she will have learned,
And I will be justified to grin,
Grateful to have once again,
My best friend.