Plato's Last Waltz: A Tether Not a Flame

Have you ever been on the receiving end of feelings from a close friend that you just cant bring yourself to accepting in relationship terms? Not at this moment in time, not under these circumstances?

We used to race the morning sun,
Two shadows stitched in muddy runs.
Laughter echoing through cracked old streets,
You knew the child before the grief.

Now grown, you stand so near, so still,
With eyes that ask what words won’t spill.
Your silence louder than the noise
That fills the space I can’t avoid.

You bring me tea with trembling hands,
And talk of skies and future plans.
But something flickers in your tone,
A warmth I fear could burn my own.

You say my name like it might break,
Like something precious you won’t shake.

I feel it too, that gentle ache,
But I can’t let this tether quake.

Because right now, I barely stand,
Held up by your familiar hand.
If I reached out and called it love,
Would I be held? Or pushed? Or shoved?

I’m swimming through a storm unseen,
Each breath a gasp, each thought unclean.
I cannot give what you might need,
Not when I'm bleeding just to breathe.

So let me keep you as you are:
A lighthouse, not a falling star.

Don’t change the shape of how we mend,
I’m not a truth you need to bend.
I’m not a love you should defend,
Nor worthy of the fire you tend.

I’m something quieter: your friend.