Its not the moaning or fcking sounds -it’s the tender voice you used to say “it’s ok” to another man, that leaves me in a mess of sads uncomprehending what I just got from my best friend. That dagger went in and it was hooked so I’m having a problem pulling it out.
You could have been honest, or better been true. I don’t know what we were suppose to be. I think we both knew it may not last, but I tried my hardest to make it with you.
I weep in puddles, I anger with fear, I spit at you in despite and disgust.
I love you and miss you but cant talk to you or face you. I’ve called you names my mother couldn’t hear, but sadly she did hear a grown man cry.
I knew you were broken, but didn’t know it was contagious. One moment I want you to heal, the other I want you to hurt. One moment I forgive you, the other, I condemn you to hell.
I almost linked this to you but realize you wouldn’t get it anyways. I picked the wrong person, I wont do that again.You never existed next time Ill pick someone real.
This pain is mine! I will keep it and you’ll not know how much you hurt me. I owe you nothing, now fuck off and die.