What is this?

A poem?

Just a display of raw emotion.

Why am I angry?

You're still in my life?

Playing me like a trumpet?

Because, you're a player.

That's what players do.

Play me for a fool, would you.

I used to be the winner.

A player.

I won the day, everyday.

I came here and you captured me.

I wouldn't even admit to it.

Now,

I'm in this black hole of a place.

Confused and dumbfounded.

Cliche.

No one knew about these emotions.

I lied to avoid the questions.

I was convincing,

And convinced.

We were close.

Best friends.

My first mistake was this,

I thought it would be better-

better to tell no one about you.

My feelings for you.

They said we were cute.

Cute but wouldn't work.

Too much pressure to make it through.

That's exactly why I never persued you.

I waited.

They told me you would.

They teased,

Maybe that's why you stopped.

Stopped so abruptly.

Like a automobile accident,

I didn't even see it barrelling into me.

We should have communicated more,

I should have.

You must have been tired of waiting.

Confiding in me you two liked each other.

I said "How nice."

My heart popped.

And to think I thought she was cool.

But she had no idea about my feelings,

No one did.

You didn't either.

Did you?

But I thought you did.

I thought we both knew.

My second mistake-

Assuming.

I made an ass out of myself.

I lost.

You made me think.

You made me look forward.

You made me believe.

There was something.

But it fizzled.

I was too afraid to grab it,

But I was close enough.

Now I'm here.

Bursting.

And no one knows.

It's better this way.

This was a race with no crowd.

A play with no audience.

A book with no reader.

We can continue on,

easier this way.

I can.

You're fine.

You always were.

Not phased at all.

Are you?

The end,

You win.

I lose.

Is this a game you're playing?

I can't tell.

I'll just go ask your best friend.