This is a poem by a girl
Who is fucking angry and tipsy
So please disregard.
But I don't believe you,
Ami,
When you talk of being my friend.
I've told you how I work.
I have told you
How to show you care
But you don't.
You reply,
When I text.
I ask you to events,
And you reject them
With no offer of later time,
So I'm slowly ceasing to ask as I told you I would.
Why won't you give me your time?
As a friend, dammit,
Not some half-flirty I-don't-know.
I love Narcissa,
Ace,
Perfect Cinnamon Roll
Because they offer me their time
And accept the time
I offer them.
I've even got the Great Whale King
Into giving me time
When I'm happy
Not just when in crisis.
Stop being a stormy-weather friend.
Please.
I hate it.
I hate that I care so much
Yet you knock me down
Again and again,
And that I am too much a coward
To say this to your face.
And I also don't want
To put in the effort
To gain the courage,
Because a little voice tells me
That despite my best efforts
I will lose you within a few years of graduation
So why even bother?
No comments:
Post a Comment