A friend not a foe

Dear heart, let us parley, you and I,

Beneath the clouds of “what if” and “why.”

For fate, that fickle mistress of our kind,

Has made our stars, alas, misaligned.

I’ve felt the sparks, the winks, the tease,

The shared moments, the ease to please.

Yet reason whispers, “Oh, do behave!”

A path together would misbehave.

Your charm’s a weapon, sharp and sly,

But I’ve no armour—I daren’t deny.

Still, love’s a tricky beast to tame,

And ours mustn’t wear its burning name.

So here’s my thought, my heartfelt plea,

Can “luv” mean something else, you see?

We’ll laugh, we’ll talk, we’ll drink, we’ll jest,

But leave the angst for poets to best.

If you’ll have me, as friend not foe,

To share the highs and weather the low,

The question I ask, with courage to lend—

Can we be what we are, and still call it “friend”?