The Fog of Love

Too bad life's not like that dream
when the three of us wandered through the suburbs
and pranced like children in the green, green grass.
In that dream we were a happy triumvirate,
my first love content with your presence
and my family taking you in as one of their own.

I doubt that will be us.
We won't see that future.

Instead, we'll spend our days
wanting to turn back the clock,
wondering where it went wrong
and how we ended up falling.
It should have been simple:
spend a few weeks in person,
chat and get to know one another
before hopping in the sack for one night only.
Not a chance.
I caught a whiff of attachment far sooner than I thought,
which means that I shouldn't have spotted it at all.
Then I moved too little too late.

But what are you thinking
when you send those emails
just to "brighten [my] day"
or texts with too much info when you leave early?
What do you really mean when you say
that I'm only a friend to you?
And who was that girl
that you took to the cafe?
Are you tempting our friends
to go there in search of answers?
I took you at your word,
but most others harbor doubts
that the date took place
and that "she" even exists.
When you went to the cafe and chatted with her,
what floated through your mind?
Would I like her?
Am I like her?
I haven't heard about her since,
but I still want to know.

I still want to know
why you'd hurt someone like that,
floating the carrot
when the stick wants to be elsewhere.
Feel free to ask me the same
but know that I'm still seeking the answer.
As I look closer and closer,
one thing becomes clear.
The answer lies in a bed only one of us knows.
We waited too long.
We waited too long.
This time, the answer will hurt far too much.

We know we can't avoid that day
when we can't control our suppression.
A stolen kiss will snowball,
a trail of frayed threads left in its wake.
How many times will we melt into each other
and hope the neighbors don't call the cops?
How many times will we lie to each other
and say that this will be the only day?
We'll say it until we're too hoarse to call in sick,
our throats raw from all the go-arounds.
We'll lie in bed in spite of the sweat
trying to soak back into our skin.
This is our fate.
Can we fight it?
There is one more option,
but you have to talk to me.

Once upon a time,
I stumbled across a piece
where I started to grasp
the notion of multiple loves.
Over the months,
we've become connected
in ways that transcend the body and mind.
I whip around and watch
when you talk to a girl
neither one of us really knows.
When you don't show up,
I wonder why you didn't think to tell me.
In this place, I can admit what it has become for me.
Do you feel the same way?
It's hard for me to tell.
I need you to lay it on the line.
I know you feel something.
Why else would you announce
your plans for the future when
the pieces haven't even been found?
If you talk to me,
we can end this madness
that's caused us to piss away
a half year's time.

Perhaps it's time to bare our souls once again
and know where we stand before moving forward.
It's time for a heartbreak that we can control.
Break it down so we can rebuild our friendship.