"just friends"

Friends don’t break up, they slide away

Like glitter after a long night of

dancing carefree under the moonlight sky

Where did they go? All those friendships of mine…

Did we plan it? Did life get in the way?

Endings, when did the start of it begin?

Was it Covid reducing my circle?

Cutting out the average ones, the “Hi”

“Goodbye Friends,” the small talkers who remind

me just how small the world is

And the random ones who I bump into?

At all the bars and parties because

it’s always fun to be the one who knows

Was it all the moving—ahead, behind?

New countries, new cities a chance to be

someone new. Maybe it was me who

left the old ones behind? Or how about

“single-serving friends” who talk about that one

time till it dawns on us there’s nothing left

And then there’s the facade, where the depth ends

much much sooner than I ever thought it

Getting coffee and wanting it to end

Knowing that this will be the last time you

agree to make plans you both know won’t be

Sometimes we’ve pulled away—relationships

Falling in love, settling down, and moving

We forget the ones who were always there

because we think they'll stay with us, always

Perhaps we were never “just friends,” because

I fell for him and after listening

to date after date, girl after girl,

I got tired of thinking “Why don’t

you just date me? Don’t you see we’re great?”

What about the ones that made me feel small?

Whenever they were around, standing

on the side with an awkward smile, hair that

never seemed to fall in quite the right way

While they got all the guys, sometimes deceived

All the “He said, she said” behind my back

When she hangs out with my ex and then asks

“Why can’t we all just be friends, again?”

Suddenly, no longer hanging out with

the ones who never stop talking, sucking

all my energy time again, dryer

Being there too much for someone, feeling

drained and exhausted, asking myself, “Why?

Why is this always such a drag for me?”

Well, I’m sick of the tough love, of

being criticized, of all the cruel words

of always feeling hurt, when you just want

to be heard. I’m tired of it.

Showing up for you, you who always has

something better to do, fitting me in

between the cracks. People drift. Time shifts.

I am getting better reading between

the lines. Choosing my battles. Suddenly

knowing when it’s time to hold and when it’s

time to fold and let go of it all now

Written by Laura Moreno Saraga and edited by Netanya Cimone.