It's in the silence that the biggest problems appear,
the quiet, the calm
it's so unclear.
Not sincere. Not the truth
But not a lie too.
I don't know. What's left to do?
There was once an us
now it's a me and a you.
Part of me is relieved
because there's so many things unseen.
I'm just glad I don't have to retrieve.
Or sit trying to remedy.
But a bigger part feels misused.
Thinks of all the things I did to stay true.
Thinks of all the things I wanted to mean to you.
It was too good to be true.
This is a stupid poem
It lacks substance just like what we had
there was no backbone
just a mash of feelings and mad
is how I feel. Conflicted because
you said "ilu" but obviously you didn't mean it
And maybe I didn't either.
Or maybe it wasn't the same
Maybe it was all tricks and mirrors in my brain.
I don't want to go back then if that's what it is.
I'd rather stay with myself alone to get through this.