Advice to be Forgotten

If only I could see what I used to see in you

a wild heart, a cheeky grin, a person who

might dare to care about another.


I walked up too close and too fast, 

thinking mistakenly you wanted us to last

but now I see you only wanted me

to want you.


I was a disgrace who had no courage to listen to

myself, and what I knew to be true because to do

anything was to admit I was wrong, that my choice

was flawed and that I was not good enough, never

interesting enough to be kept around.


But I am not one of your dusty books. I am not longer

afraid to be afraid, scared to be alone, blinded by

a one-sided infatuation that gave me all the wrong

information, telling me red was blue and to

love was to suffer in ecstasy.


So I must say, to all the people who are me,

but distinctly them, who are struggling to separate

what they know and their love for him, to all the 

hearts that have been quietely broken: 

doubt is a key to unlock a better you

pain is a measure of right and wrong

and small things add up and up and up

even on the biggest set of scales

whose labels we've made too generous.

You have to speak for yourself

and stop speaking for them.

This poem is about: 
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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