I Stayed Anyway

I met her when I was eight. She was ten.
She was bold, blunt and effortlessly intimidating.
I was quiet, guarded, and cold.
But, we became bestfriends.

We grew up tangled-like vines, like stars, like something that should've unraveled years ago.

They told me falling for your best friend is a cliché.
They never said it would hurt this much.

But now, I love her.
And she has a boyfriend.

She clings to me like I'm hers, whispers things that shouldn't mean anything-but somehow do.
She gets jealous, possessive, angry when I pull away.
But she belongs to him, not me.

And I?
I just smile and pretend I'm not breaking.

Because she's my best friend.
And I was never supposed to want more.