We sat in the room together,
eyes barely meeting yet greeted in coldness.
Maybe now answers can be voiced with a third party involved.
The professional acknowledges us as the seat in the middle is taken.
I just want to be heard.
She wants to be rid of me,
the morbid scenery of a damaged love.
“Who wants to express their feelings first?” the question is asked.
“Talk about your feelings within and be honest and transparent.”
Something we haven’t been with each other in almost eternity.
Silence dragged along for an unknown torturous time.
I’m tired of sharing my feelings yet I presented my canvas as such:

“I wish we could go back to a time where everything was innocent. No lust, no attraction; just being good friends who talked and laughed about any and everything. Who picked fun about others and encouraged each other all of the time. We had fun just being around each other. But we allowed lust to come between us. We chased after a passion that should have never been. As a result, we’re here right now without the ability to look at each other nevertheless talk to each other. I miss my friend.”

The awkwardness of the room intensified as silence continued to lay hold of their speech.
Boldness gave me comfort as I stared deep into her near teary eyes
and it was that moment I refused to try to read her.
I denied any vibe she may have projected toward me.
It didn’t even matter if she responded or not.
I said my peace.
I convinced myself of the honesty of what I was holding on to.
Her eroticism drove me crazy, yes!
But it was said pleasure that caused confusion between us.
The yearning had to die,
even though our bond was far beyond ghost by said moment
in closing my eyes I asked to be excused.
The professional, still shocked by my honesty, gave me the go ahead
and I left the room, never to return.
One of the few things I regret was ever loving her beyond a friend
that may very well be her transparent response too.