I din't tell you to read my ****
never wanted to make you feel bad for it
split myself opened up blood and veins, transparent on pages
saw you quote song lyrics like they were designed to spit in peoples faces
maybe you meant me, and maybe ya didn't. i aint mad if it wasn't me
but it's ******* for me to fake it and this is where i'm freest to be me,
so if it's here that makes you say
"never underestimate a man's ability to make you feel guilty for his mistakes"
well look in a mirror and don't be like that man who forgets his own face
face it, i'm not the only one who's made mistakes.
I love you, now let's move on from this place,
together,
i hate the silence and the distance
and the slightest semblance, the bleakest resemblance
to what we might have had, or thought we did,
to what we swore to when we said we accepted all the **** that comes with each other
why are we acting  like this when we were almost, maybe, sort of, lovers?
when we're friends,
the rare kind,
that come once,
maybe twice if you're lucky three times
in a lifetime,  
(all different of course)

I am tired.
I am sore.
I miss you.
Let us rest together, if only a moment more. . .