With the golden flowers of
I love you, I love you not
I pluck the petals off
with the slightest of ease.
Silently I wish
he was gone.
He actually had packed up his bags
and skipped town.
He called and I remember
his silent whispers of
‘I love you...
as a friend.”
But that’s the part
where it hurt the most.
I don’t want to be your friend.
I don’t want to be your anything anymore.
You’ve twisted me
and you’ve turned me
confusing me and delusioning me
making my brain melt.
You’ve created a mixed drink
of emotions, making my stomach
feel giddy and nervous and upset
all at the same time.
If you weren’t such a
goddamn bartender,
we might be able to talk
again, as friends.
‘I love you...as a friend.’
What a sick joke.
But, darling, I must assure you
it’s not funny in the slightest.
The last petals falls,
from it’s lips whispers
He loves you...
not.
YOU ARE READING
Teacups and Pens
PoetryA collection of poetry from my mind. Take from it what you will.
