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.