Three years ago, I got the nerve to say "hi",
And the usual smalltalk followed.
The how-are-yous and what's-ups
Lead us to the wonderful friendship we now have.
But a year and a half later, I started noticing something.
I didn't just appreciate her as a friend anymore:
I had started to love her, for who she was;
I fell in love with all of her, every single detail.
How could I ruin such a friendship, though?
If I said anything, I could have jeopardized everything.
So I kept silent, watching her go from lover to lover,
Unsatisfied, hurt, unloved, heartbroken.
I offered her advice, and helped her through.
I was her psychologist and her paramedic.
And I took on the task to mend her heart
Every single time another person broke it.
When I got the courage to tell her, she told me she felt likewise.
Funny thing is we never got anywhere beyond a few words.
She said she was doubting herself, and I accepted that,
Because what could I do other than support her.
Our friendship became cold, as Medusa's victims.
She stopped talking and texting, leaving a hole in me.
All that time spent mending her,
and now that I was in need of myself, I was absent.
"Everything" was fixed after a few months,
But I was still hurt, broken-hearted.
I still offer her advice on how to gain other guys' love,
While I keep burying myself in the hole I dug.
But at least I learned my lesson:
Never fall in love with your best friend.
This is yet another old poem I found while cleaning my room. Enjoy!