How it feels.

It always seems so easy to say,

but never to actually do. 

Forgiveness is a double-edged sword. 

 

If you never forgive you will always ask what if? 

You will be consumed by bitterness of what happened. 

 

If you forgive you will ask yourself why.

You will never truly forgive them inside,

you will be consumed by bitterness of what happened. 

 

It hurts to look at her.

It hurts to look at him. 

It hurts to see them together. 

It hurts to see that he wanted her,

that look in his eye,

those lingering looks of longing that you never saw. 

The affection,

the adoration…

The love that never even glanced your way,

is suddenly all fulfilled in this one girl,

a girl full of faults,

full of deceit,

a girl you can never be,

nor ever want to be. 

 

Time passes but the bitterness remains;

a tiny seed that burns and quivers threateningly

inside your chest,

just tucked away, hidden behind your lungs.

You don’t want him. 

You can do without her friendship. 

It’s the betrayal that hurts. 

It’s the fact that you were the one that he dated

whilst lusting after a girl

who welcomed his affections

whilst lusting for his best friend. 

The deceit of it slices at your heart

until all that remains is a pulsating mass of red ribbons. 

 

Trust is a fragile thing, built up over time,

yet destroyed in an instant. 

I let him in.  I told him so much. 

I let him see my inner soul. 

I let her in.  I told her so much. 

I let her read my innermost thoughts. 

 

You learn to act as though you’ve let go. 

That it doesn’t claw at your chest,

bubbling up your throat

in an attempt to escape in a torrent of anger,

bitterness and hatred,

as she tells you,

weeks later,

that she didn’t ever see him as anything but fun. 

That he cared too much for her. 

Inside you scream ‘was it worth it? 

What was the point?

Did you have fun taking what was mine

just because you could

then just throw it away,

discard it in the dust

alone and hurting with the pain

I was being suffocated by?’ 

He’s out of my life, but she isn’t. 

The memory remains and

thus the bitterness dwells within.