You asked for the truth,
I offered, yet I am graced with silence.

This isn't a battle, yet somehow I'm losing.
This isn't a war, but I am still defeated.

This wasn't a fight.
T'was a slaughter.

A senseless homicide of a friendship that I don't think I could ever understand.

I will not be the mannequin for you to unload upon your confused attacks,

I do forgive you though.

I bear no grudge,
I hold no anger.

My role in this play is now,
To patiently wait for your truth.
Even if it will never arrive.

I just want to tell you something.
I don't know what hurts more.
The fact that you were in pain and didn't tell me or come to me for help.
Or the fact that we both had mental health stuggles, and you decided that yours were too much and decided to stop breathing air.
We were supposed to get through this together.
But you left me to figure out my problems myself.
So, yeah... I don't know what hurts more.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the reason, the inspiration, and the thing that pushed you through some of your hardest struggles. If I’m part of your thoughts that you write about; the thoughts that you pour out into your poems and music.
I sometimes wonder if I matter enough. Matter enough that sometimes the things around you remind you of me. Like when you look at something, you smile because my name is the first thing you think of.
Sometimes I wonder if we’re actually right for each other. Like maybe we don’t know it yet, but maybe we were made for a reason. Made for each other. As if maybe all our broken pieces of ourselves fit together.
Sometimes I wonder if the poetry I write, will ever be as good as yours. If it will ever have as much meaning to it as the poems you write. Through all the pain we went through. As if yours will always be so incomparable and impossible to write and put it out on paper. Through your scars and the things that broke your heart.
Sometime I’m left wondering if I will ever be the person that will cause you to feel loved again. The person that makes you smile because they are the first thing you think of when you wake up and the last thing before you fall asleep. I often wondering if I ever will be the person that can help you pick up the pieces of your broken heart and put it back together. The person that takes your breath away and helps you breath at the same time. The person that will love your perfections but most of all your imperfections. I don’t know, but I still hope that maybe someday I can be all that and more for you.

Your voice over the phone didn’t sound the same
I wondered if maybe your love for me was fading
Maybe my eyes weren't as beautiful to you anymore
I was hoping that you would say you missed me
But you said goodbye instead
I hope this isn't the end for us though
Beceause I really want you to stay