Thoughts on a Platonic Friendship

This is a love poem;

But it is not like the ones where

The writer would die and he’d never know

And she’s haunted by his face everywhere she goes,

Where she wipes her thumb on the rim on his glass,

And brings her hand in close, in hopes of a dance,

Or when he loves her at last and lets her down,

Where she follows him around to glimpse even a frown

And kisses the place where his shoe touched the ground,

Where she composes symphonies of the sound

Of his feet pounding the ground

Or pounding her down;

My feelings are not so skewed or misplaced,

My heart does race but it doesn’t hurt

I don’t get jealous when you speak of her

I am not deterred by the thought of her

Hands through your hair, hands that will never have to

Nurse any bruise,

Not from you;

She doesn’t know you like I do

But that’s okay.

I am not envious of her lips, bursting with love,

Because they aren’t bursting with blood

I don’t mind having to share you,

I’m sharing myself and it would be selfish

To keep you to myself

I delved into the wells of a thesaurus, I admit

To find the best words to transcribe how I feel

Maybe to impress you or to make you think I’m smart;

But I know I don’t have to,

Not with you.

I like being under this sky with you

I don’t have to be anyone but myself

I have nothing to prove;

I want you to like me, but I don’t feel desperate to try

And change myself or chase you or erase her

Forgive me if I get caught in your eyes

Or find myself following your smile

It’s not a lustful cry

I’m just tryin to get used to a guy

Who treats women so damn well… my,

You hug me goodbye

And smell of cedar,

Not candles on an imaginary wedding cake.

You smile and I feel warm inside,

But it’s not a burning desire

That will hurt the next day.

Your hand brushes mine

And it’s so soft and kind

But it’s nothing like a red rose bouquet,

And I hope you touch her so softly this way.

I do love you,

But not in that way.