The person who this is about is incapable of reading this. Thank you.
You don't miss me.
I don't run across your mind anymore but every split second he does, it matters more.
You don't have those small memories of us that you cry over every night because you're making new ones to replace them all.
Every single picture of us was mentally ripped in half and my name to you is now in the category of strangers...
It's not the year drop that barrel rolls off my cheek anymore that matters to you but yet the tear that slowly rolls down your cheek, i'm still supposed to catch.
i'm breaking down again slowly because i got attached.
i got attached.
surprising, right?
No.
It shouldn't be because the day we met i told you "be careful, i'll get attached." and now it's the routine and the you that i miss the most.
It's the small "i love you" attached the ding signaling your message.
You once told me that i wasn't appreciated enough and to me it surely seems like you didn't.
This is not yet a poem of anger but of confusion and regret and simply salty tears that keep streaming down.
i am now a fish in the sea stuck in a net.
i used to be the net, because i had you and you broke through, leaving me to wonder.
To question myself...
my own personality.
Was I not good enough for you?
Was i enough but not much more?
Was i not the extra shining sparkle you were looking for?...
Was i simply just another test drive?
Now not only do your secret I keep, i fear mine being published...
screamed at Satan's feet.
This isn't fair.
This isn't...fair...
Not an apology.
Not a letter.
Simply just my dilemma.
This is not yet a poem of anger.
This is the poem to my best-
This is the poem to my ex-best friend.