PICK A SIDE

She told me to choose between her and my best friend,

I raised my eyebrows and dismissed it as a bluff

but her tongue was so audacious to repeat itself,

My neck stiffened –

At least that prevented my head from decapitating itself.

Whoever said that if you looking for a partner it’s best to date your best friend,

I’m sorry, I can’t, ’cause I’m not gay.

Her motive I didn’t want to know and I never want to,

Yes I was her best friend,

Yes, she was my best friend

But I couldn’t do what she was asking of me,

A battle of supremacy and I had to pick a side :

My woman, or my wing man?

My lover, or my brother?

To love, or to the brocode?

I know jealousy as a disease, never thought it to be a cancer.

In a question of loyalty the answer lies in the dilemma

Finding yourself not favoured by the scales is what you call betrayal

I asked her ‘If I died for you, would you remain alive for me?’

Her reply ‘Do I need a reason to?’

She’d passed her own sentence,

I stood up and made for the door and held it for her

And that was how I reduced her to a memory in my life.

Half drunk, I told my bottle of whiskey,

“women are like matatus, if you miss one you’ll always get another.”

I could always get another bride,

but not just anyone could be my best man.

                                                      ~By Misfit