Clutter

A poem about the thin line between a lover and a friend.

Clutter


"This wasn't supposed to matter,"
he whispered in her ear.
"It doesn't mean a thing," she said,
but her kiss is so sincere.

Close friends for years on end
turned lovers in the night;
so caught up in the moment,
and they each believe it's right.

Two young fools playing part
is all they really were;
yet as he stared into her eyes,
he became a fool for her.

In the morning, this will pass
and these feelings will be gone.
But when he woke and kissed her cheek,
his feelings still burned strong.

Still the two said their goodbyes
and went their seperate ways;
and he kept silent as she left,
though he had so much to say.

I'm all she would ever need,
and she's all that I adore.
The feelings quickly shifted
and became too much to ignore.

"This wasn't supposed to matter,"
he whispered to himself.
It didn't mean a thing, she thought,
he's just clutter on my shelf.