Reality

Many can attest to the happiness
That spilled from every pore.
Many can also attest to the sorrow
That spilled from every pore,
After I had believed a close had come,
When in reality,
It hadn't.

Lies were told,
Boundaries pushed and bent.
Nothing was certain,
Yet we both knew
Two sides of the same story.

Now I am finished,
And you are not.
I'm still affected,
And you play to my weakness.

You may not want to admit,
But even I can attest for my own emotions;
Whether they be what you want,
Or not.