Because every time I try to love him, I get hurt.
I try to do something for him as a friend;
only to be called a stalker.
The lies and hurt are piling.
He lied about valuing honesty, loyalty and what love meant.
Clearly I wasn't it. It took 3 friends, 250mls of vodka
& a night of alcohol intoxication for me to figure that out.
These friends helped to wipe tears that I could hardly keep up with.
Clearly he wasn't worth it.
I was crying because he wouldn't let me send him a card? No.
I was crying because I didn't try hard enough? No.
I was crying because I gave it my best, only to get hurt again
& by the one person I believed most in the world. My best friend.
Being helped into bed because my friends felt I was sufficiently wasted,
taught me that he's not going to be the one to stand by you when you're that down.
Maybe he used to. But not anymore.
Instead, those feelings were like the card that never reached it's recipient.
But it doesn't matter. All that... is past now.
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