Friend Zone
Friend Zone
Its unfair that I dedicate myself to fix him and then I have to watch him get taken away from me.
Every time he falls to pieces I always put him back together.
All I ever do is pick up the pieces.
And all he ever does is get broken all over again.
Its because he's too trusting, forgetful, because he's a terrible liar.
Maybe he can't handle the real world, because he's too fragile for that.
I put him back together by giving him dreams.
Hopes something to aspire towards, something to tell him it’s not the end.
Something to put him back together again.
And I am rewarded with the words: "you're a good friend".
Nothing more nothing less.
He appreciates me but not the way I want him to, not the way I need him to.
Those words hurt because I know he means what he says.
Because I know that he is genuine.
I feel like he's setting limits—
Like all we'll ever be, all we're made out to be is friends.
And I can't reach forward towards him because then who will he turn to if he's broken again?
There's no one but me to fix him again.
No one but me to take his wounds for him—
No one but me to put him together again when he shatters.
But there's no one to fix me and I'm still looking for my missing pieces.
The holes in my soul that shouldn't be there seem to grow wider and deeper and I know one day I'll shatter, one day I'll break completely into oblivion; if I haven't already.
But I still have to put him back together again.
I don't even matter to me, so how can I matter to him?
There's only me to fix him when he breaks; only I know how his pieces fit.
Because he is genuine,
And because he is fragile
Because he is naive,
Because he is short-minded
Because he is free-willed
Because he is mine only in my mind;
I'll pick up his pieces and put him back together to let him go again.
To let him break again
To let him try again
To let him dream again
To let him hope again
To let him sparkle from between phases of the stars
To see his smile again
To let him love again
It doesn't matter how many times I break or into how many pieces.
Once or a million; whether it’s in half or until there's nothing left of me.
I'll always pick up the pieces and put him back together again.
Because I am a ‘good friend’;
And I know that that’s all I might ever be.
Sorry for this...
I'm feeling random these days...
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