A best friend, who can't even send a response,
And doesn't pick up your calls,
Another one who'd only hurt themselves again, and again.
Can you still call them a best friend,
When they actively stop being around?
When they look you in the else and turn the other way?
The silences between you become uncomfortable and neither of you argue
Because you'd have to actually talk.
So while the arguments and disagreements dissipate,
You also lose the laughter and the smiles.
The inside jokes turn sour and bittersweet,
Under the new lights.
And the gift they give you, grow this mold like sadness when you think of them.
You stop missing them and realize you just miss that time.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of My Old Poetry
PoetrySo I decided I wanted to publish a bunch of my older poetry that I didn't want in my future publications but I didn't want it to go to waste so here it is! It does get dark at certain points, please know that I am okay! Many of these were written at...
