I see the way you stare at me
And every time, oh, I feel like a work of art
'Cause whenever our eyes cross
You look down, but then you turn the other way.
Whenever you hear my voice
You shake, as if my words are cold as ice
Secretly creeping inside your head
And wounding your memories inside.
Honestly, I find it fascinating
I find it funny
To still be the topic of your conversations
To still be a frozen memory you keep
To still be the center of your attentions.
You told your side of the story
And all your new friends took it for gold.
They won't ever ask about mine
And I learned that's fine.
I hope you're having fun with them
And I wonder if it will last longer than us
Or if it will fall down
As leaves from trees in winter,
Slowly and one by one.
I wonder if you'll treat them like you treated me
If you'll make them doubt about themselves
If you'll picture them as the culprit in your story
Will they then become
The topic of your conversations?
YOU ARE READING
MY SIDE OF THE STORY
PoetryDuring the past few years I found out that people I used to be friends with would talk about me behind the scenes, creating their own scripts and scenarios & making me the villain in their own story. Not only that, the general public, along with soc...
