A Teardrop

May 24, 2009
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YOU DON’T COUNT TO ME ANYMORE.

Actually, that’s not entirely true.
I hate you for everything you left me with when you decided to speed away from this hit-and-run that I like to call my life,
And you hardly even stopped to say “I’m sorry,”
Even though I had the faith to believe that you’d be the one to wait until the ambulance came.
Instead, you left me with songs I can no longer listen to,
A hug I’ll never get,
And a void that refuses to be filled.
And that’s because I love you for what you brought to my life before you sped away:
Someone to talk to, who cared and meant everything they said.
I’m saying this right now with perfect honesty: I loved you,
But not in the way desperate teenagers say “I love you.”

I loved you because you were a friend,
Someone I depended on and cared about more than anything ,
And somewhere in my head that idea was mistranslated into something just as meaningful, but totally different.

What hurt me the most is that you left;

What hurts me even more is that you had to for me to figure this out.

But the thing that kills me is the fact that you will never understand.





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