Man child

I never even thought about dignifying you with my words. I didn’t even get inspired to write a piece about you, and I rarely remembered any good thing you gave me.

I suppose you took me on a date once, tried to clean up, brush your hair, and go to the gym so your body was muscular. It seemed like a man, but you were really just a boy.

It wasn’t even any fun toying with you. You only played with me for the first two months, and after that, much like anything in your life, you went to move on to something better. Yet you kept me around because we started building a place together. Well, it was mostly all your stuff. I was nothing, and you were a trust fund spoiled masshole.

I can’t even look at your face without feeling some form of disgust. To think I got on my knees for you at all. I could’ve learned a thing or two about cleaning up after yourself in more ways than one.

It was just laziness. As I was so eager to give you what I thought you’d want, and you sat on your computer ignoring me. Taking for granted the person in front of you.

One of our last memories would be me screaming in your face with your friends around slightly. Somehow, I don’t feel the guilt. You committed to a life and gave up the moment you paid me no mind.

How can you say you love someone yet act like just friends? To make it worse, I supported your empty fury head and opened my mind to be thoroughly disappointed in your game, or lack thereof.

Your kiss was cold, and your touch was distant. Were the cuddles even good? We slept in the same bed, but I remember nothing of it. Just that face of pure confusion, like a lost puppy dog never knowing what they did wrong. Can’t blame you entirely, right?

Every relationship is fifty-fifty. But I had nothing to give and tried to give you my heart, and you had everything to give but couldn’t lend a dime. Guess that shit box of a Prius was the only good that came out of you, that, that and your sister.