A year ago I sent a text
Telling of something I had written without remembering
I must’ve been blinded by insecurity and naïveté

As I wrote of the days after
Where I compared myself to characters in a tv show
I wrote of my hatred
Of my pain
Never realizing that I wasn’t writing against him
But attacking myself in turn
For falling under a spell
For allowing myself to be tricked
For looking through those ******* rose colored glasses

I wanted to be stronger than I was
I was ready to hate myself over my stupidity
I was missing everything that I had spent years building and in two weeks got ******* destroyed

There was no cure, no easy solution
Because I read the last line
And knew it was true
“The next time we saw each other
Everything had gone to ****”