Chirping from branch to branch they prance.
Singing on a scale that lets no third to dance.
Their melody, a rancous chorus;
Like an orchestra of chainsaws.
They’re caged- caged in a world of their own making.
They play- play away with no regard for timing.
They waste- waste away like resources banished from the gates of mining.
They sail, sail aimlessly like a ship with no bearing.
When one is not in the company of the other, jealousy stings them.
When they hold hands, electric currents crackle around them.
But denial is there abode; all the telltale signs, they ignore them.
Besties, they call themselves, but “best thing as a couple”, people call them.
Indifference for breakfast, indecisiveness for lunch and a dinner of ambiguity;
Stuck in a limbo and rollercoaster of uncertainty.
“What are we?”
Perhaps we’ll know when we lie in bed,
Whether we be lovers or friends.