I Write Because It Still Hurts

"So much sorrow, whatever made you write this way?"

I usually have answers for everything but I didn't have an answer for this.

At first I shrugged and planned to say, "No, it's nothing."

But my silly mouth betrayed me and instead said, "It hurts."

It hurts that when I open my mouth It's about it.

It hurts that the way I look at every damn thing it concerns about it.

It hurts that every feeling I felt it reminds me of it.

It hurts that everything I know concerns about it.

It hurts that it became all I know and all I write about.

I didn't say those out loud. 

Of course, because he was it and the one I am talking to.

But how could he know about it when I even though I'm always with him, his words were about her?

How he looked at the world was always about her.

How he felt was every feeling it reminds him of her.

How everything he knows concerns about her.

How she became all he knows and write about.

"I didn't know you went out with someone?"

And where everywhere he is, there's her.

You see, him, her, and me were the best buddies.

I loved them both.

But I love him more.

And He loves her more.

She loves him more too.

We are best buddies. 

Why would I come in between them?

"It still hurts because I'm starving." I said faking a stomach pain. 

He laughs. She laughs.

"You're so silly Jason."

I'm just a man in love with him. 

I'm just a man who would rather hurt himself than hurt the one he loves and his friend.