best friends in the middle

they will not write about us

because darling
we’re not in love
and we both know that poems ought to be about lovers
or brothers
not best friends halfway in the middle
but our hands fit like puzzle pieces and your smile makes my heart sing

and i cried when you said you missed me

we are not the stuff of legends in this world 

where it’s only love if you fucking do the stories people want to hear: 

end in a kiss, not a high five, or a fistbump 

but if i’ve got you, i don’t need to make history.