Apr 2013
It's a **** shame
I put you in my picture frames
Next to my bed
Where, every night, I lay my head.
It's utter irony
That you would lie to me
Every time you said
We would always be friends.
It's really painful
That we became so dull,
So distant in mind and heart.
We're torn apart.
It's rather sad
That all of the times we had
Dissipated, flew off far away,
Leaving us with no words to say.
It's crashing down upon me like waves on the shore
That what we used to be is no more,
That fears became reality and you changed.
So I'll take you out of my picture frames.
I put you in my picture frames
Next to my bed
Where, every night, I lay my head.
It's utter irony
That you would lie to me
Every time you said
We would always be friends.
It's really painful
That we became so dull,
So distant in mind and heart.
We're torn apart.
It's rather sad
That all of the times we had
Dissipated, flew off far away,
Leaving us with no words to say.
It's crashing down upon me like waves on the shore
That what we used to be is no more,
That fears became reality and you changed.
So I'll take you out of my picture frames.
An important friendship, or so I thought, has altered in the past few months to constitute to nothing. My best friend is no more and I'm bitter and light weight melancholy about it. And the worst part, without the intent to be self-deprecating or to evoke pity, is that I really don't think she cares. I've come to find that she can be selfish. Though that trait is only a part of her and doesn't constitute to her entire being, it's prominent and relevant. It still stings, like a bruise you forgot about that you bump on the end of a table again, that she is so. Enough to just let her go.
