I watched him love her
in all the ways I begged for.
Gentle hands,
open eyes,
words that once tasted like mine.
Five years I spent teaching him tenderness,
building a man out of apologies,
swallowing silence so he could speak louder.
Now he whispers poetry
to the ghost of what I made.
And her—
my best friend turned confession,
my shoulder turned secret.
She wears my lessons like perfume,
smiles in the sunlight I carved from storm.
I wonder if they know
that every kiss they share
is stitched with my forgiveness,
that the warmth in his laugh
was born from my burning.
He gives her flowers,
and I remember planting the seeds.
He holds her close,
and I remember teaching him how.
Maybe love was never lost—
just stolen,
refitted,
and renamed.
But I hope when he calls her “baby,”
she hears the echo of my name.
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Author:
Nevermore (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 4th, 2025 00:52
- Comment from author about the poem: being cheated on is never easy especially when it's with your "best friend", so enjoy my pain turned poetry.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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