I understand your regret.
How guilt finally grew teeth
and came crawling out of the dark,
demanding to be felt.
But I need you to know—
I had been bleeding from it
long before you ever called it guilt.
Every time you begged
and I said no,
I was thinking of the scars
someone else left on me.
I knew exactly what it felt like
to be betrayed,
and I couldn’t bear
to become the hand
holding the knife.
When your conscience finally came knocking,
you answered by making me disappear.
You cut me from your life
like a cursed name,
like I was nothing
but a haunting reminder
of the things you wished
you could forget.
Like I wasn’t your best friend.
Like I hadn’t known your darkness
and let you know mine.
You simply left—
no warning,
no goodbye,
just an empty chair
where my best friend
used to sit.
And somehow,
you still watch from the shadows
while closing every door
that once let me into your world.
Why?
Why leave the window open
if you’ve already locked the door?
I’m so fucking tired
of missing you.
Tired of carrying
the ghost of my best friend
through rooms
he no longer occupies.
I keep digging through the grave of our friendship,
searching for something
that proves I mattered.
And all you’ve shown me
is that maybe
I mattered less to you
than you ever mattered to me.
So tell me—
How do I mourn a friendship
that never had the decency to die?
-
Author:
Nevermore (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 19th, 2026 13:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Offline)
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