to make sense.

I am sad

We’re not the same as before

From when we gladly would take less than a split second to decide

On whether a restaurant

Held our interest and that particular brand

Of zest, fulfillment, life

 

But now we’re separated

An invisible roadblock;

It is to life and the loss of element –

 

Not that you ever asked,

Or that I ever quite complained

 

But it hurt when you used my sins against me

When you’d throw me to the dogs

If only it’d bring you to a higher point in his eyes

 

I am not the victim and yet

You and I have much growing up to do

In dealings with men

Or lack thereof relationships

 

I know we’re trying to grow,

Respectively,

Me

You

 

And this whole time, I thought I had the grander, better perspective;

That I knew what to do,

So it was as if I schooled, tutored you;

But you have, you are your own person, being.

 

I don’t somehow, regret what I did

As callous as it sounds in being

But I do regret how it made you feel –

 

But in a bittersweet way,

It felt like comeuppance,

Because then you and then I

Understood what it was like to be betrayed.

 

No matter the times I’ll say

Nothing happened of the sort

And who cares if I like him or not –

Things are cut off, but tendrils ever casting their shadows

Hold a presence even when the concrete

Has been cast off.

 

So I don’t want to cling onto a friendship

That has in a way grown past due

Because maybe I, too, was unhealthy for you.

 

I can’t and I do presume to be a knowing voice of fortitude;

Yet you saw me mess up time and time again,

But hell, I’m trying, really trying

To be better than the person I am.

 

You’ll not read this,

Unless I show you.

 

I speak to complications,

And intertwined webs of pseudo jealousy –

I am sad because our allegiance sways

And there’s no trust, belief

 

And I wish there was a scapegoat to blame;

I wish I could pin it on human faults,

Allowing remnants of what existed

Of our friendship, to fester

In plain. Sight.

 

But you had overstepped where you did,

And it’s so hard to forgive you.

And I had callously done what I did

I am not the person you make me out to be

Because my own demons could pitchfork me

Into another realm, unseeing;

So now you can’t believe me,

Which makes sense.

 

To this lackluster friendship, feeling

I guess this is what does/n’t make sense.

10/16/17

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Author: gerbilette

Write, edit, be. Write, love, poetry.

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