The Last Word


"In all the years I've known you,
All we've done is bitch, bicker and fight,
And you know, as well as I do, that
Doesn't make a friendship work," you said.
"Am I right, or am I right?"

And instead of accepting the words as they were,
I did what I almost always do—
I found a reason to take offense, and then
I blamed it all one you—

"You're pissy, you're moody,
And I really don't care;
Babysitting your emotions
Is not why I'm here," I argued.
It doesn't matter, you do what you like—
I'm tired of caring — I'm too tired to fight."

You took my words at face value,
You dropped that fight right then and right there;
But you read into my words too deeply
When you chose to believe
That I truly did not care.

"I see," you said, "you've felt this fall-out too,
And judging by your reaction, on some level,
I know you must have wanted this too."

And before I could so much as ponder
What you meant when you said "this,"
You had up and left me stranded
And left me feeling quite amiss.

And when I finally took time to reflect,
I realized, sorely, that you were right;
Even the truest friendship is only so withstanding;
I had left too much to neglect.

So, know that I don't blame you.
I'd like to — but I can't.
Our friendship was only as strong as the two of us,
And by looking at me in the equation
It's obvious it stood no fighting chance.

So I'll hold my head high,
And I'll accept all the blame,
And I'll apologize because I was wrong —
Now, here's to hoping that to hear these words
You're not already too far gone.


L. Kantenseter