We don't regret what we did, we regret what we didn't do.

I didn't have the energy to shine.
I didn't have the strength to put on my shining armour,
and I couldn't spend the evening smiling and laughing with you,
if overnight I'd be crying alone.

What are friends for, if not to help you through.
If they become nothing but a load,
are they even friends anymore?

I've been spending my whole life circling around this question.
Going through every excuse, trying to change and twist its truth.

But I no longer have the energy to lie,
I no longer can put on a smile and hope for the best.

Because I can't be others prince in shining armor,
while inside, I am still the frog,
and the princess to be saved.

I'll always remember the mornings at home.
Where no one was happy, where everyone swore,
where sadness and anger mixed together and formed

a moody gray. Like the one in the sky before the sun came out
that almost looked blue against that house.
Probably because nothing could have had so little color
as a 7'am morning at home.

A fly lazily perched on my computer,
it brushed its legs against each other.
Like you used to.

I stared at its black eyes,
dark like your gaze when you gripped me by hand
and pulled me away into your bedroom.

I remember how dark the world seemed
when I shut my eyes,
counting every second.
Hoping that it’d make it fade,
make it stop,
make it less real.

But the fly’s legs were thin, fragile, small,
tiny the same way I felt powerless
when you were around.

And then the fly flew away.
It swept through the window, free.
Oblivious to my catching breath,
while I hyperventilated
trapped between the memories
of what you have already forgotten.