Good enough.
Friends.
But never in a blue moon lovers. No longer a thought more.
I tend to think that good enough will get me places, possibly a squeezed space in your lovely heart. That just good-enough could dip my spilling love in gold and my smile in diamonds. Though that’s never the case is it?
I’ll be good-enough that you’ll remember my name while I scream yours. Good-enough for a remark of quick satisfaction caressed upon my skin like a fork of fading lighting while your eyes roll back. But that’s good enough, right?
I don’t need the jewelry draped upon my neckline and the pretty flowers to remind me of you. Nor have I ever wanted a lovely dinner by the ocean’s shores with a medium rare steak on my plate. Never been one for a date or a movie theater really.
So good-enough has always been enough.
However the small, small, part of me hopes that one day I’ll be too good. Too good for roses and dinners. For dates and movies. Then maybe you’ll shower my heart in gold and my smile in diamonds like I wish for in my darkest moments. Maybe just then I could shine brighter than the sun, and be your one and only light in this life. A silver light in the darkness and daylight.
But what’s hope without inclination? What’re dreams without someone to be in them?
And so I won’t hope, nor will I ever dream for a second more because you’ll always leave time and time again according to the score sheet. You’ll always say goodbye and part ways a little too early in the morning leaving my skin cold in the first dawn. You’ll always take a piece of me with you, wearing it around your neck like a medal from a conquest, but leave me with nothing. My bed will then catch my regretful tears, and grasp for your lingering warmth as I promise myself to never expect different, tracing the words “good-enough” in my mind. A statial reminder of place.
And yet, I’ll do it again when someone else comes along. And once more I’ll hope that I’m too good, that I’m such a miracle that crossed their path like a shooting star. But forever, I’ll just be good enough for that loosely lust craved sleepover. For that quick sensation to fall from your lips rippling across my skin like I did something right finally. I’ll be just good enough to share a blanket and sometimes maybe even a pillow if I’m lucky.
Maybe too good is just for the ones dodging sins and praying to the heavens with their spotless hands. Yet, I’ll still whisper to that love struck devil on my shoulder who swears that I’m almost good enough to be too good. I’ll stay the night, hoping the devil keeps its promise that in the morning you’ll fall in love. That in the morning things will be different, and with my matted hair and dripping makeup, I’ll be too good for you. That in those six hours of entangled limbs, shared breaths, and matching heartbeats, I’ll finally mean something. But until then, I’ll settle for the temporary rubies between our glossed lips and the good enough reminders of love you chant in my ear. I’ll be just good enough to endure another false hope.
And maybe we were just friends. A little less than lovers, but I’ll still smile when your name pops up on my phone hoping today I’ll become too-good in your bodily warmth craving bones. But that’s just another broken hope right? Just another little dream in my silly mind that loves love.
