To the ******* who once was my bestfriend but has now forgotten about me

Your tan skin and sweet smile was once my daily sunshine
A reason for me to wake up in the morning and be energetic in school
Your laugh pokes at my heart like a ring-less three point shot in a basketball game
I watched my heart become the ball
You shot through rings of fire
That kept burning and burning
But I played your game
Like you played me
Because you were once my best friend
But now you’ve forgotten me

You were once my daily sunshine
And now my daily hell.

I used to open Facebook and see a message notification
Your name in bold letters with a simple "Yo"
And a smile emoji
And sometimes you'll tell me
"Notice meeeee"
With five Es in the me

Now I open Facebook and see no message notification
Your name in light letters with a seenzoned "Yo"
And a smile emoji
I'll archive our thread
And I'll try to forget about you
But when you go online
I always tend to notice you

I see your name on the active list
And see your posts as you tag them
And not me.

You used to send me random lyrics
And made me listen to random music

You used to tell me
"You can count on me like one, two, three
I'll be there"
But when I needed you
I did count on you like four, three, two
But you did not come
You were not there

I did not even see your shadow when I asked for help
I never saw you by the audience during my performances

I've stopped watching your basketball games
Because I am done watching you
Shoot my heart through rings of fire
Watching it break on the same court where you taught me to play

I've stopped messaging you on Facebook
Because I am clearly just another message you have already read

And I was just another friend
You have already forgotten.


19:09 - 19:28
7 April 2017

Methanol*

I was a bandage
which you ripped off
as soon as your wounds
were healed,
because I was loyal
and what a mistake that was
because I can't be anything else,
except what lies on
the opposite end of the spectrum;
completely detached and indifferent.

Maddening methanol,
blinding me with your impurity,
but now I see
what a fraud you were.

"Losing" you didn't injure me,
your absence didn't sink
its teeth into me;
you were sour as
sudden abandonment,
I was more than glad
to be rid of *you.

It's not so much a longing as it is pure curiosity,
but there's no need to reopen closed wounds.
Sugar soothes my scars, but you're salt,
and we were meant to fall apart eventually.
So, I will call some neutrality
(this is my doing so),
because we all **** up, and I've no ill will left to poison anyone with,
and I will be here if you ever need me.

Sometimes I check on you-
to make sure you're still here.
And I'm certain you don't know I do,
but I do.

I haven't even seen you in more than a year
and, truthfully, I don't really want to now.
But that doesn't mean I want you dead.

Your name,
has become a curse word that falls from my lips.
The picture of you in my head,
has become blurred and wants to be forgotten.
Your voice,
has become a door that lacks oil.
The way you move your body,
must be because of your deceiving bones.
Your rat like eyes,
have become the worst color of diarrhea.
I know this is not the just the “Call out a back stabbers” poem,
lets name the flaws on and in my own skin,
that just so happened,
to be pointed out by you.
As you covered my face in nine pounds of a “makeover”,
you said you couldn’t see the flaws on my skin anymore.
Flaws?
You went far enough to point the pubescent scars.
of my lips, cheeks, and chin.
The shyness I have of talking to my friends,
was pointed out because you didn’t have someone to talk to that night.
Excuse me,
but I thought the effort of the friendship was supposed to be put forth by both “friends”?
Next,
near the end of the friendship,
you often told me I was a terrible friend.
I cried.
A lot.
Later when that came up,
you told me you were just trying to make a point.
Why as a friend didn’t you just try to talk to me,
instead of trying to start insignificant bull crap?
But here I sit now,
with friends that could always be so much better than you.
I often hear your snickering words behind me a your lunch table,
and I turn around and smile at you and your “friend’.
You usually **** your head in confusion,
but really,
that's me.
The 15 year old giant ginger with a second graders personality,
stinking my pinky finger up at you to flip you off in Chinese,
and to say in a nonexistent voice,
“frick you”.