Coolhand Luke

I walk in, and you grin, and make some offhanded comment about how I'm late, or look confused.
I smile, roll my eyes, and sit down next to you.
You pretend to be gruff, and grumpy.
You joke, and tease, and act unapproving of my lifestyle,
Of the spaztic way I think, or dress.
You don't often say much, and what you do say is pessimistic.
You rarely make direct eye contact, but when you do, you hold it there.
And I can't help but notice that it is all very familiar to me.
But I can't quite put my finger on it.
Then something goes wrong.
I get knocked down again, and you show up, without even being asked,
To pull me back up.
You go from distant and harsh,
To gentle and sweet.
You're there.
And I know what it is.
You're my Luke Danes.
We're just friends,
But we're not friends at all.
We love each other,
But we can't stand each other.
We need each other,
But niether one of us will admit it.
We tryed to be more then friends, and we failed. You bailed out.
You were scared.
Your life was too complicated.
And I waited.
I tried moving on,
But it wasn't right.
Now you're back again,
And you say you're on the fence.
You have two roads to walk down,
And one road to choose,
And I know you'll take your sweet time.
But when it all caves in,
And the rain starts to fall,
And everything starts to end and begin at once,
You'll find me.
And I will be here.
You're my Coolhand.
And whatever role you choose,
Friends, or otherwise,
I will be here.