Sure, We Can Be ‘Just Friends’

We can be friends.

We can be friends as long as you don’t ask for my advices when it deems necessary and I don’t give it to you in hopes that you will get better because, darling, that is everything that I wish for in this world.

We can be friends as long as you don’t tell me your ambitions and dreams and I don’t share mine, wishing that maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll be a part of it.

We can be friends as long as you don’t talk about her and I don’t feel my insides twisting, as if a knife has been repeatedly stabbed upon me, just by hearing how happy you are with her.

We can be friends as long as you don’t look at me with those eyes of yours that seems so innocent, so raw, so naïve of the effect it has on me.

We can be friends as long as you don’t smile with that crooked smile of yours and I don’t feel as if there are a million and one butterflies inside my stomach, fluttering and flying, breaking my walls apart.

That day you asked me if we can be friends,

Well, darling, of course we can be.

As long as I stop myself wishing that we could be something more.