my, ex-friend, you were a bitch.
she were a bitch,
but i was too.
i still am.
now, i have no one to
have a bitch-off with.
except myself,
in the mirror,
as i cry a new lake
called the forget-me-not lake.
but, you probably forgot it.
i don't know what happened.
we were like a
brick wall in New York City,
crammed together for
oh, so long.
yet we were simply demolished.
i remember when you gave me items.
random items.
various items.
items that mean nothing now,
but might to you.
items you might want back,
but no...
i won't give them back.
i lost them a long time ago.
they're probably under my mattress.
but still.
no.
of course, i'll give the small things back.
like, that book you gave me?
i spilled coffee on it,
whoops,
but.
whatever.
those coffee beans it was make from?
just like our friendship:
down to the ground.
i forgot to unfollow you
from the 'gram.
classic forgetful me,
right?
she recently got her
16th darling,
right?
your 16th admirer,
right?
your 16th anybody
but a boy,
right?
shocking. not really.
do i think your a whore?
yes.
are you a whore?
no.
could you be a whore?
i wouldn't know.
i'm not friends with you anymore.
do i want to be friends with you?
i don't know.
you seem different now.
so different,
from my angle.
that i can't see the old you,
through those crowds
of people,
like you.
YOU ARE READING
lights to life - spoken word poetry
Poetry"do i think she's a whore? yes. is she a whore? no." a series of poems i wrote on my free time!
