Knowing that I lost you
Knowing I didn't make you happy enough
Knowing that you thought of me as a mental ***** up
Knowing that you will never be mine
Knowing that you'll never want me again, like I want you
Knowing you're with her instead of me
Knowing that I wasn't good enough for you
Kills me inside

We have love stories concerning us.
No one seems to know how we
broke up.
You say one thing and I say another.
I guess we disagree on many things
like how our first hug went
or the first words I said to you.
How we actually got together
the first time.

The first time,
it sounds so childish.
Three years ago you asking me
out and I accepting in pity
since the one you thought you actually
liked didn't like you back.

We've had our rough patches
and you want to be friends
but I don't know if I can do that.

You were the first person to like me
back.
To actually understand how I felt
and what I thought
and you still do.
You still hug me and I smile every time.

So I don't know what I'm doing anymore
I guess writing poems about you
when I should be trying
to just be friends
like you want.

But when I've tried so hard to not be
friends
I can't push that all away and give up
all my hard work
even if it hurts us.
I want us to work, but
you want you and someone else
to work.

wakes from his slumber
foggy eyed and rough
too much ***** last night
voice shallow and gruff
the medicine he's chosen
the hair of the dog
he walks to the off-license
the air still thick with fog
he sits alone
just him and a bottle
feels nothing as the *****
pours down his throttle
starting to feel it
laying on the couch half-cut
listening to the radio
as the ***** churns his gut
he wastes most the day
watching films and talking ****
doesn't go out
stays confined in his pit
spends his evening drifting
in and out of sleep
sometimes thinking about life
and sometimes starting to weep
he goes to bed unable to see
another day spent in a downward spiral
and he’ll repeat this tomorrow and the next
because it’s nothing but a cycle