Here We Are At 22: A Shakespeare Rip Off

Three friends,
Me, he, and she.
Three young buds bursting for adventure, and love.
Together we satisfied the first,
And when we each found our second,
And we could not have anticipated
what would happen to us when we did.
Now I am a fly on the window sills
of two unsettled houses.
Though I hold the power of a voice
I choose to be silent
I make believe ignorance
Scarred by pervious losses
Of the same sort of story
These new friendships are too precious to risk
Too precious to scream honest words into their clogged ears
Words like “You deserve better.”
Too precious to say to their face so subtle gestures
and in secret codes I resort to.
Will it even help them?
Should I risk their contempt?
Do I see them happier without their supposed lovers,
Or am I ignorant to their happiness?
Is my minds I replacing their wants and needs with mine?
Is it selfish of me to want better for them?
Or is it only selfish to act upon this want?
Do I pick up the pieces later?
Or do all I can to stop it from happening?
But is it already too late?
It is not nor can it come to good,
But break my heart for I must hold my tongue.