i find myself
once again
talking to you
telling you
things.
i'm scared
that what
happened
last time
will happen again.
i trusted you
with my biggest
secret.
and what
did you do?
you got
drunk
and you told
someone.
and then
she had the
nerve
to tell me
not to be
embarrassed
about
being
bisexual.
i did not
want to be
rude, but
i felt like saying
"i'm not
embarrassed.
sexuality is
not something
i'm embarrassed
about."
but i didn't.
i'm just
mad and
annoyed that
you, who i
trusted more
that anyone else,
had:
1. gotten drunk
2. told her
3. sent me a fucking
suicide note
about how
bad you felt.
i'm not sure
if it was
your intention
to make me
feel bad and
forgive you,
but it
worked.
i know it did.
after all,
i was just sitting
next to you,
telling you
why i'm
crying.
one last thing,
yes,
i forgave you.
but know this:
it will take time
to trust you
like
i used to.
YOU ARE READING
desolation
Poetrydes·o·la·tion ˌdesəˈlāSH(ə)n/ noun a state of complete emptiness or destruction. anguished misery or loneliness. just a book of my inner thoughts, feelings, and observations TRIGGER WARNING: may include eating disorders, self harm, alcoholism, suici...
