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Untrue Friend: a Poem
Over edge of my glass I saw his face
and somehow it turned a magnifying glass,
making of him something that I couldn't pass,
bringing our hearts to a possible embrace.
Was it the next glass left to be blamed,
or feeling of loneliness in which I had wallowed,
for the illusion which I so eagerly swallowed
about his sincerity so casually claimed.
Through so many bottles and festivities after
we kept finding purpose in each other's life,
to soften every mishap and tiring strife
with a song or two, and a crazy laughter.
Did I have something too much for his pride,
or just something he wouldn't give to himself?
But ours was a story on a wrong bookshelf
maybe with nice cover, but not much inside.
It was all competing, secret as might be,
with pity and compassion which I didn't need
for things I didn't pursue, so I didn't succeed,
with him ignoring my quest to be just happy and free.
Now a dry sediment left in that glass
ready to be washed out with sobriety and peace,
with nothing to regret, and even less to miss,
enjoying those friendships that have more class.