I was your friend.
I loved you in a way friends do.
We were friends.
You were my friend at least;
Was I your friend?
You used your words to hurt me,
And no matter how much I hurt
You kept on talking.
It was like you lived on my death,
But you kept me alive like friends do.
That meant something...
...Right..?
YOU ARE READING
Poems at 3am
PoetrySo, I write a lot of poems some (a lot of them) of them may be triggering due to the fact a lot of them talk about my trauma, mental illness,and bad experiences, I'll include trigger warnings dw! Others of them are either reflections, nonbinary rant...
