poemsbygrace

Yet, I Called You A Sister To Me

You didn't text.

You didn't call.

All the things that you didn't do.

You left me the pain.

Holding that pain in was like a knife clinging onto the skin and won't let go.

I want to let the pain go, but the knife is still clinging to my skin.

You betrayed me and I don't think you'll ever feel sorry.

You only talked to her because she was on cheer team with you.

I didn't want to be apart of something that I'm not.

You sunk to the level of a place of popularity.

I don't remember your phone number, but I still remember your birthday.

I try to forget the 27th of April.

Why should I care? Why do I care? Why do I let myself think of you anymore?

You first meant something to me.

Yet I called you a sister to me.

I remember thinking of you listening to "They don't know about us" by one direction and I realized I thought of you differently.

I realized something about myself I refused to believe.

You didn't think of me as a best friend, you thought of me as a pity friend.

I told you that I considered doing hair, and you did the same thing, by putting that in my face.

Your accomplishments in my face.

How am I supposed to be happy for you when you acted like, "I'm all that."

A friend wouldn't look me out of pity based on how I look, the shape of my face, the shape of my body.

You cared about putting makeup on your face, when I didn't.

Beauty is not on the outside, it's in the heart.

I don't remember your phone number, but I still remember your birthday.

I try to forget the 27th of April.

I used to look so far ahead in the future, hoping that you'd be there.

I used to walk by your house sometimes, but now I try to avoid it because you avoided me.

Except now I have someone that will never leave me out in the dust.

She may have told me that she wished to have met when we were older, but that didn't matter to me.

It doesn't matter how old we were.

She cared about me, she listens to me, she always there with a shoulder.

She's not the reason why I refuse to believe I'm gay, she supports me and accepts me.

She's taught me what it means to accept myself for who I am.

It's not easy for me.

Especially when I'm not entirely happy with myself.

I'm not stepping back anymore, I'm only stepping my foot forward.

You're my past, and I have my own future ahead.