When we first met, I remember my excitement for you.
You were the most honest person I had ever met;
Even said things others would normally hold back.
Later I learned that you just had no filter.
I remember how we both were always looking for new friends.
Always open to the idea of meeting new people with similar interests to us.
There’s so many on this island, we crossed paths a few times.
I heard such bad stories about you that way.
You would go for only girls, really.
You’d claim that was the only way you were comfortable– saying that guys hated you and weren’t as easy to talk to.
Seemingly, it was more that you wanted someone to unbutton their pants for you.
And you didn’t want anything that hung, down there.
You broke so many pending friendships for me, as you stuck your tongue into any mouth that opened for you.
You broke any ounce of trust I had in me, when you wouldn’t even tell me where you had gone.
As if it wasn’t bad enough what you had kept doing, I never even knew where you were.
And if I did, I was in a panic the entire time like some vacant part of me was banging on the doors, “leave!”
But I stayed. Even when the guilt bled from your mouth like a newly opened wound. I stayed.
I excused you. Even when you promised never to betray me like that, and I’d find you in your “forgotten” pattern. I excused you.
I became a joke for loving you.
I became more fragile and broken than I have ever been, trying to love you how I thought you deserved.
I should have left.
Maybe I’d be at least a little more sane, unlike you.