The Fools Best Friend

Daily monotony cracked but didn't break as I sat across the dingy-walled room from my oldest friend, waiting for something new to happen. Maybe a kiss, maybe a look that contained a moment that could become a lifetime. Longing for someone to bring home to my monotony.. someone to transform the bleakness to sunshine and elevate the hovel to a rough-shod heaven. Languishing in silence is an art of fools; to live in poverty without love is a fool's errand, as it feels even emptier and all the more desolate without love.

I knew that what I had hoped to blossom from friendship to love would never be. It was fated that we'd only share details of our relationships with others, while our own relationship remained in the stasis of friendship, lingering in dead soil like a rock garden. I still hoped, clinging to the possibility that the chaos of life could sometimes present. It allowed a dappling of light through the dusty windowpane in my bleak world; the love of a friend is more familial and lackluster than that of a lover and life companion, it wasn't fair to expect more from an unwilling party. I never pressed, just secretly hoped.