I didn't get a chance to say
I was enamored with how honest you were to me
and how trusted you made me feel
when you told me the small things about you that others wouldn't admit,
like how you judge books by their covers
or dislike people who act like fans of musicians after only hearing their new songs
when you were a fan before they blew up (haha).

Everything about you felt sincere,
so when you said you wanted to be friends
you might have really meant it,
but the last time we spoke face-to-face
the clock in my car had the correct time
and the last time you texted me first
I still had so much to look forward to in 2020.

Since then, I've been in a constant state of in-between focusing on myself and asking you how you've been,
but I don't feel regret when I see you and
I don't feel as sad to see you happy & surrounded.
So I'm relieved,
because what was and could have been is behind me.

But now, I can't shake off this constant habit of comparing myself to you and to the person you wanted me to be.
All I think about now bounces from wanting to be better and feeling like I'll never be good enough (for anyone),

May take a bit to come down from seclusion.
Climbing for a gain, knew what I was losing.
It's on the T that time is balanced,
and I've seen it cemented.
It's on the scene with all the extras,
and I've seen myself in the crowd.

i took your eraser and rubbed the poem i wrote for you away.

it was near dawn when i wrote our "i love you" on both sides.

i still haven't given it back.

.
.
.

maybe next period.

forgive me,
you are too beautiful to be this burdened.
i'm sorry you carry so much on your shoulder.
and none that passes could take it away from you.
for the key to unlocking you,
breaking you free from your voluntary shackles,
lies not within me but on someone else.

forgive me,
for a second i thought, i could liberate you.
i believed in my patience
and the warmth i bring.
i thought i could light you up
like fireworks,
instead i'm the one that ended up in flames,
while you continue to seek that which you have lost,
her spark.

forgive me for my delusions,
and ideas of grandeur.
i was wrong to think,
that we could've had something wonderful,
that i could've changed your mind,
and that i could've made the one to make you stay.

for a second i thought i had you there,
some of you,
most of you,
perhaps all of you,
and then none of you at all.

how can you be both
the demon and the angel
inside of my head?
the very thought of you
starts a cascade of emotions,
both the good and the bad,
and an endless stream of memory,
that seems to replay from
beginning to the end with no form of escape.
what am i to do?
my mind seems to enjoy the demons you inspire,
and my heart misses the angel you were.
what am i to do?
the demon that i hope to finally see you as,
just led me to a deeper understanding that
all my thoughts and emotions point to you.

i never fell for the angel,
it was when you showed me
your darkness,
the demon inside of you,
and all around you,
that's where i fell.

there's nothing i can do more but write,
hoping i'll eventually run dry
and have no more to say for you
and for all that we had.
i'm hoping i'll get tired of looking at you from afar,
and wishing we had more time.
i'm hoping i'll villanize you enough
to hate what you've done to me,
and what you've succeeded, unknowingly.

you really hurt me this time,
deeply.
all your words came crashing down,
like a bomb that deployed into a million missiles.
the target was one,
me,
but the casualty was millions --
millions of pieces of my heart breaking,
the first time i've ever felt it do so.
your words pierced like a hundred arrows
that werent aimed at me,
yet i bled,
because i was in the way,
and it got me anyway.

one day i'll get over you,
and i'll walk away from all this mess,
with a smile.
but for now, i'm drowning,
unable to breathe,
or swim away from the destruction.
and even though you've set me free,
and that i should look at the bigger picture,
my mind can't help but be in the details.
one day,
i'll forget.
one day,
you won't be here in me.
one day,
i'll be okay.

i'm done trying to get you.
every unresolved question
needs no further answer
when you chose to retaliate in anger.

i'm done trying to ask why,
knowing you will never try.
i won't ever come close
to a realization,
a full circle with you.

i'm done playing these games
i should have never started.
i anticipated losing,
yet i never expected it to feel this,
defeated.

i'm done letting myself burn for you.
you set me free
with a flaming tongue
and for that i will be grateful,
and disappointed.

i saw something in you,
and i still do,
but i'm done trying to get you.

perhaps i will always just be a supporting character
to everyone's story.
never the protagonist,
nor the antagonist,
not even the deuteragonist.
i'm just a minor character,
a passerby,
someone to fill in the show.
because when a damsel like you called for the hero,
and i came running,
tending to your wounds,
you kissed me thanks,
and bid me goodbye.
and then you sat there and waited
again,
and tore out the already healing scar.

there and then i realized,
i'm not a hero,
not in your story anyway.
i could never be,
for you chose not to see me.

if i could sum up all the parts,
all the scenes that happened,
and the role i played in your life,
i don't think i would it would amount
to anything at all.
i would still come up short,
or perhaps,
it would still feel like it was all for nothing,
because it was a all a lie,
an illusion.
the only thing that was real was what i felt.
but you couldn't need it.
so when you looked around,
asking if anyone out there loved you,
begged for someone to care about you,
you couldnt see me,
you only saw her,
from far away,
and what you wanted from her.
all while i held you closely.