The Ways of The Platonic 

my stranger turned best friend turned lover, 
turned friend, and friend turned almost stranger... again 
S T O P !
these crosswords!
and this strange silence...  
as if we were never lovers
just random and quiet souls, bumbling through the city streets, mumbling to ourselves, 

We should be talking! laughing! being!

Will it ever occur to you why I need you 
To write me a letter
with more then the common vague curt-is-seas and shallow waters

in that head of yours, 
I am so thirsty for your thoughts... 
and in that heart of yours and in your soul-- are you aching? Are you nothing? Tell me!

And Yes! My friend So what!? Love isn't what we thought
Disney, Hollywood, Radio Love Songs, swooning us to some ideal
Some idea, that it would all just magically work out 
Conflicting with our parent's tainted versions of love , making us cynics before our time
Poisioning us with the idea that it doesn't get better then what they had
Never once giving a hint...
to what love really was. 

Our history shows... we both fumbled... 
clumsy and struggling like a fish out of water, 
these sons and daughters, clutching... grasping but never really knowing what to do
What does one do with love? 

And now our once free tongues and heart that could only spew out words of love and affection
spew out watered down answers- stifled answers (what do you fear?!)
answers that fumble with the words neccesary to express what needs to be said 
They now struggle in the awkard barriers of this 
deja vu love affair

Let us reap! speak to me. 
Do you remember when we used to just talk, (laugh!) my friend? 
not because we had to, but because we wanted to? 
What freedom it would be to express our souls with out the 
Lingering feelings of pride or fear or influence.
to be free again
friends again
If you ever ask me, this is what I seek.