I don’t know what your idea of friendship means
I don’t know if being your best friend is what it seems
So I’ll try and dissect your words
Through my mind, if remembered they may reverb
You don’t want anything to do with being a couple
That solid statement’s forward, that’s not too subtle
You thought about counselling, decided too tired
You worked through options, except the lad I sired
You want for him to have a full parenting picture
You think it’s weak, not strong, to let me, let him be
You say; If we don’t have some contact with our boy
We’ll lose what matters, and then there’ll be no joy
So what does it mean exactly; best friend status
Do we progress, or second-guess our own hiatus
I felt clearer, although the cost was dearer
When we parted, not started, getting nearer
I can live with the parting glimpses of anger
Recollecting and putting blame, lapsing into languor
I think it is best, to not, not vocalise my thoughts
They may be off beam, for I am, I am out of sorts
Yet I don’t want to look forward, too many days away
Thinking friendship means love, with a body sway
I don’t want to waste any more years thinking it’s OK
No real understanding, not to understand as we say
When clearly it’s not so, for instance do you know
How you intend to befriend, or turn to love or no
If we don’t find out shortly, no use to pretend
Our loving, our friendship will both come to an end
No cards, no notes no late night conversation
It’s a funny kind of friendship without communication
There is no time left anywhere for making love
We do things that lovers aren’t ever dreamt to do
