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Mar 5
you're a ****-no-good-fool-liar as my mother would've called you,
          and by god i was the fool who knew.
i almost loved you--once, when we were younger kids still,
          when the girl of your dreams turned you down,
          and i asked you for a date.
even now i'm not really surprised by what you did.

you were the first boy i ever kissed (not the last) and we had no idea how--
         i hesitated, and you didn't; but once there we stayed on flickers of
         endorphins and energy that i know now weren't really there.

and looking back i wonder if i was keeping you from the edge--
        you hid your drinking problem for me (not that i ever--ever--
                             (--would've shamed you for it--)
        and told me later that you never drank while we were together,
        that you were clean, that you were engrossed in me
                     and your **** musical theatre.
you didn't lie about that, but when i found you with another girl,
         when i saw the way your eyes dropped to your feet and swelled with
         tears you didn't deserve to cry?
i left you, and i didn't regret it.

i never have.
i wonder, dear, if you're drowning in your lies the same way you used to drown in the bottle?
i hope not--but you chose to make it your problem only.

we move on--hopefully you're not sunken in your basement
        with only the flow of your hidden whiskey to keep you company.
Written by
Alex Evans  17/M/United States
(17/M/United States)   
830
   Xallan
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