A Shattered Fantasy
Every time I see your face the feelings come back. Happiness and contentment, but also pain and sadness. A longing for what once was, and a resentment for the present. I can't staunch the flow, can't turn it off. They work their way into my system leaving me feeling empty and lonely.
Why'd you do this to me? I though I meant something to you. I guess it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. You wanted more than I could give, and when I couldn't give it to you, you moved on. Leaving me . . . whole on the outside, but broken on the inside.
I'm torn between wanting you and hating you for what you've done to me. I don't desire to want you, but I can't help it. Seeing your face brings back a sliver of hope that I can't quench, no matter how hard I try. A hope that someday things will get better, that we can go back to the way things used to be. A hope that you'll be satisfied with what we have.
So now I'm waiting. It's foolish I know. Waiting for the day when you realize that you gave up on something special. Of course I'll always be here, a smile hiding the pain. I'll be your friend, even your best friend, we can just pretend that nothing ever happened. We both know that's not true, but who will ever know?
I guess I'm an idiot for ever thinking that we could be anything for real. For believing that you actually cared about me. And for believing that you actually wanted to be with me. You proved to me that fantasies will never be reality and that they're too good to be true.
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