Googling soliloquy

The words do not escape me.

They are here, at my hazy finger tips, on the keypad, and in my mind.

I’m more than capable of stringing them together for the hundredth time,

To express the sentiment to you once more,

In a different and prettier way.

But, as with the last ninety-nine times,

It’s not that I doubt your awareness of this feeling:

I don't reiterate this concept in the hopes of making you or anyone else clearer on the matter,

For I'm far past shadows of doubt that everyone is well aware by now

What I mean when I call you my friend.

The reason I've rewritten it so much, and expressed it so feverishly frequent

Is that it so often springs anew in my mind,

Just to what extent you mean to me.

And I'm compelled once more to put it in writing,

The way we communicated for years before speech.

This language is lacking, I often find,

And does not consistently carry the weight of what I feel,

But I know you'll make up the losses with your understanding of me.

Each word I've misused or punctuation misplaced, you can alter as you pick up the spiel of this drunken fool's soliloquy.

Once more I preach your praise,

So forgive me for repeating myself,

But you are my friend

And you mean so much to me.