Whispers of Maybes

Whispers of Maybes 

For starters 
I really don't care 
but like all nights 
where you and I mingle 
with drink in hand 
and our stressful overthinking 
takes a swim in the spirits of a Friday night, 

we always look at each other 
like travelers at the other side of a bridge 
that we can not cross. 

I don't know what it is 
but we always click 
though we both know the outcome 
of our similarities 
meshing together. 

Granted the friction would be intoxicating 
and for the briefest moments we could share 
the feeling that you and I both desperately crave 

The feeling that we aren't alone. 
That when we wake up 
we aren't in the grasp of a cold isolation 
that foreign lands 
and daily struggles present to us 

As I tucked you sleep 
and I returned to my night of drinking and merry making 
I walked home alone and thought about the words I would remember
and you would most likely forget. 

It could be fun. 
The whispering "maybe" 
under our breath as we look passionately 
at each other 
knowing that it would be the easy way out 
and we have a nasty habit 
of falling for struggles.