I called you friend once.
I trusted you,
and you destroyed me.
Again.
As if it didn't hurt enough the first time.
You know what I mean,
the words you said to me that day still ring in my ears.
Those times I sat alone,
starving myself because it seemed more appealing
than eating my lunch in a lonely bathroom cubicle.
And so I decided,
You were not my friend.
But then the months and years, they passed,
and we started to talk again,
a little at a time.
You would asked me how I'd been,
I'd pretend like I'd been fine,
like you hadn't hurt me at all.
But you had.
And despite this, I slowly started to trust you again,
I missed you, and I thought you missed me,
though you never said sorry,
you never acknowledged what you had done,
and that still hurt.
But I didn't let it faze me,
because I was this close to forgiveness,
to letting you back into my life.
I nearly called you my friend.
Then,
you shut me out again,
led me on and lied to me,
lied to my face,
you bitch.
Only this time, the joke is on you,
because I don't eat alone anymore,
I don't wander the halls alone anymore.
I am not alone,
anymore.
I'm surrounded by people who care,
who really care,
not like you.
And your words still ring in my ears,
but only if I let them.
And I never let them.
I called you friend once.
But you are not my friend.
You are not my friend.
- the_broken_poet_
