You told me to write. You told me someone needed to hear it. You failed to mention who and for what. I was left to assume you had someone that would love my words as much as you used to. It's not true though, is it? We were friends, I'll give you that. We were also closer than we should have been. I had hoped that one day you would read between the lines. Quite literally. And make something out of this mess that I've created for you. Oh how naive I once was. I trusted you with each and every blank space I had. One day I caught you. You had a lapse in judgement and you needed me to catch your drunk body. Do you realize it was more than the car you totaled that night?
A heart is something we all wish we could oh so easily forget could break at the snap of your fingers. We all make mistakes. Loving you was my worst. The nights appear to run together nowadays. I sometimes pretend that you're in your room, and I'm in mine. Contemplating ways to get out of the mess we've let ourselves become entranced by. I know you wish it more than I do, that your life was over, but I needed you to stay with me. At least for a little while. If I'm honest, I thought you knew. I imagine every now and again that you are right where you are supposed to be, and not six feet under.
