Why Falling in Love with Your Best Friend Actually Sucks

by Hayley Swain (Walsh Univ.)

First Place

Curving hips with the perfect
essence of temptation.
Smiling ever so slightly,
as you take the smallest possible hit
of a dingy cigarette.
You giggle softly, like you can still feel
the remains of your innocence,
grabbing my hand intimately,
saying "you're my best friend."
I breathlessly whisper back,
"You're mine too."
Teaching me how to inhale the smoke,
until my throat became a chamber
of burning relief, and
our minds grew hazy.
Oh, your smooth skin,
growing warm under my
slightly wavering fingertips,
tracing from your chin,
to the curving shape of your chest.
I caved into the shine of those eyes,
carefully lined in eyeliner,
creating the version of myself that
I knew would belong with you.
You allowed me the privilege,
of being your partner in crime.
From every shot that lead
to kisses we later claimed to have forgotten.
To those late night, passed out,
too drunk to even open oureyes
yet grasping at one another
like we could save each other.
Waking up pretending that the
alcohol in our system somehow managed
to erase the sensation
of wrongfully placed ecstasy.
Sensational conversations,
stupid little games,
and bottles of vodka
became our alibi as to why
we couldn't let each other sleep alone.
And how the hell can love be immmoral
if it made me feel like I could conquer the world?
When I fell asleep faster,
on your soft stomach,
that in any strong arms
that held me against a hairy chest?
It was your strawberry scented hair,
and your soft lips.
that sent me over the edge into
yearning for a love that was
completely forbidden to me.
In trying to resist the fruit,
it wasn't a serpent that tempted me,
it was another Even when Adam wasn't around.
You taught me to party like
it was the last day of my life.
But most importantly,
you taught me that the things
that are forbidden to me,
do indeed taste the sweetest.