I smiled the best way I can and wished you well,

Wished you all the love and happiness you deserve.

Wished you happy times with her, whose next to you,

And while doing so, I wonder “can he tell I’m hurting?”

Can he see pass the forced smile?

Can he see the shadows in my eyes?

Can he see the tears almost escaping;

The tears held together by pride?

Why is it so hard; saving one’s pride;

And why is it so important?

Why does it always end with:

“It’s not you, it’s me?”

Did I feel like shooting you or me?

Did I want to rip and tear her apart?

Did I wish it never happened?

Question is – does it matter?

Does it matter what I feel at this point,

Knowing I’d give more than you can?

Knowing the distance you can cross for me,

Doesn’t even come to a single mile.


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