Tag: friendship breakup

Paradox

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To all the friends we lose while navigating our own journey.

Twice a month, I dream of you walking these streets,

Calling me mad and calling out my undying greed.

Strangely, that still fills me with hopeless joy

Because you turned our friendship into this cheap decoy.

We fell apart when I turned to better choices,

Pointing out your mistakes, your antithetical voices.

I wasn’t nice or fair, I admit it now, honey,

But neither were you, begging for favors and money.

My paragraphs were petty, and your love was cheap.

I hate growing up; some nights I can’t even sleep.

These paradoxes pile up on my doorstep like mail.

You’ll judge me harshly when I finally fail.

These words mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.

They might reach you, and they might really sting.

I hope you’ve moved on, I hope you remember.

I was never kind enough to let you be tender.

-Jackie

Wager

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Building oceans out of used duct tape rolls,

Hiding the motions while it’s taking a toll –

The chemistry’s fake and we’re caught blinded.

Five years ago I thought we’re like-minded.

But people change morals and wind changes heart.

I chose to go silent and you chose to go dark.

Won’t call you arch nemesis or even a stranger,

Yet the money I put on you –

I’d never again repeat that wager.

-JW

Blocked Out

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And I can’t spill ink on this page with all the pressure on my chest,

All the well-meaning souls yelling, knowing – it’s not for the best.

I can’t speak up when you only taught me how to be silent as a grave.

No second chance left for those who stab you to death

Claiming they’re trying to save –

Save what exactly, what are you protecting here?

The sound of your cruel intentions is unbearable to hear.

And I can’t waste time spilling ink for those who spilled their guts,

Re-imagining trauma, stealing my pain and romanticizing the cuts.

You can claim you’re also struggling but how does it make it better?

Analyzing my mind as if it’s yours, giving me a straitjacket,

Calling it a wool sweater.

How could you even assume I’m going to take that beating?

You were slamming my warmth but your soul has no central heating.

Don’t be mistaken, if I ever need someone to help me with the climb

I’m going to choose my own two feet over your cold shoulder

Every single time.

-JW

Travelling Show

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Quite tragic what happened when I dropped you and left.

I turned away dramatically while holding your spine

Like a cigarette.

At least that’s what you’re telling them, that’s how I know

That when I left, you made me into an amusement park,

Into a travelling show.

Not a circus, just a bare stage and bad storytelling.

I can tell you lie because your tongue is sour from spite

And it’s rapidly swelling.

It hurts to re-run the memories, to think about how I quit.

You were extremely vile but I wasn’t scared – so go,

Take away your friendship that’s counterfeit.

-JW

Décolletage Cuts

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My promises are as cheap as my perfume

But, love, I paid for it with my pride

So don’t stick it up my nose, let doom be doom.

…I’ll meet you on the other side

Without your backstabbing smile.

My hopes are as low as my décolletage cuts

And don’t try to convince me that it’s too much

Because two-faced boys dance where everything rots.

I’d suggest we never keep in touch.

I wasn’t the joke but you treated me as such.

My past is as vivid as my lipstick stains

So don’t play with the devil to ease your pain,

Don’t suck me dry just to fill up your veins.

Take your ego down the shallowest of drains –

Or keep your distance, stay in your lane.

-JW

Monster

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I was never able to love the beast inside of me

So I fell for the monster in you.

Who knew – that the death of me

Will be as sweet as honey and stick like glue.

And it will suffocate me like the town I outgrew.

But the current carries my bones to the sea

While I’m clenching the shell you drew.

Pull the curtain back once you count to three.

Pretend you never knew.

-JW

Hypocrite

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Sorry I called you a stranger last night without meaning it.

Quite weird how we don’t allow our loved ones to change even slightly.

The second they do – we quit.

But I do apologize for growing apart, even though I was thinking

That we’re birds of a feather, flying in the same direction –

So I took off without blinking.

I crash landed in the next empty field, no sight of you, just dirt.

For a moment I did believe you got lost chasing…

After weeks of silence I stopped waiting on you to revert.

Then, four months later, in an empty hallway your eyes meet mine.

Such a happy moment, you’re there but somehow not smiling.

I realized you’ve lost your spine.

Ran into you a couple more times. Your stare so blank, I wondered –

Maybe I’ve become see-through, and this is afterlife?

Maybe I should close my eyes and count to one hundred?

It’s been a while and I still see your face in my dreams, I do.

It’s painful and wonderful, and I want to hold on…

When I wake up – still no signs of life. No signs of you.

Sorry I called you a stranger last night without meaning it.

You could’ve called me back then. You still have my number.

You goddamn hypocrite.

-JW

Bitter

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Here’s a bitter pill to swallow: they don’t need me if I don’t show them sympathy first.

They’re doing great. Everything’s lovely. The moment it’s not, they drink up my empathies with a godless thirst.

Too bad I’ve been too blinded by our history, reflecting into the unknown. I missed the warning signs.

I should’ve never taken up another beggar after one already tore my core into a painting of alarming sights.

But I’m not motivated by the anger. I’m writing this because no one’s here on these dawning nights.

It all passes once the sun starts creeping up the horizon, yet the bitterness is not erased by these morning lights.

I’m mourning our fights.

The thought of never seeing them again fills me with ease so maybe I should keep my heart locked away?

In the cupboard, next to a broken glass and shivering illusions of safety, shining brighter than the signs of Broadway…

Maybe I should built a festival out of this little hideaway,

Just for myself.

But I’d rather do it like Hemingway.

Here’s a bitter pill to swallow: they would need me more if they could add me on their resume.

-JW