Band Aid

"The convenience of having a friend in a lover is unmatched."

I wanted to be your friend.
The place of solace you run to when the world wasn't as it seemed
When hours tumbled into days of working yourself to exhaustion
When all you wanted was a time out, a place to call comfort
I wanted to be so many things matched into one,
like the fire that lights up a blaze
Sets it on fire
I wanted to be the oxygen that kept your flame alive
the air that surrounded your light
I wanted to be so many things
A lover, a friends, a partner

Only, we didn't even get to the starting line
We didn't get to taste each others flavor
Never got a chance to even whisper "I love you"
On a cold night as we gazed at the stars

I wanted to be your band aid
I wanted to soothe out the hurt
The things that went wrong
I wanted to be the one to stitch you together
To be able to admire the handcraft
The hand work
Because it meant I could love you broken

Truth is, in mending you I was mending myself
I spoke of  how - hurt people hurt people
But what I really meant to say is that hurt people heal people
Because in your brokenness you'd recognize all the ways in which you can mend me
You find ways to soothe out the cracks, because you would apply the very things you wish someone would recognize in you
You would be able to do the things you wish someone would do for you
Because there's a part of our brains that believes,giving the treatment you wish to receive may actually bridge the gap you may feel

So in the end,
I ended up with more broken pieces.

I now spend nights reading through the conversations we used to have
The time when we shared dreams
The time were laughter was plenty

I now spend my days wishing I could get back the days when things were simple
Days were spent texting away
Nights were spent in cinemas

I now spend evening wishing that you didn't feel so far away
I don't know when I decided I was okay with you becoming a memory
But when that decision was made, I obviously wasn't in my right state of mind.

Pride, is poison.
It kills the very things you are trying to nurture,
and by the time you open your eyes to your imperfection
It's too late.

Now, I spend my nights wishing
For a friend in a lover unmatched.