On Loving My Best Friend’s Man

I saw the way he looked at you. I heard the way he called out your name.

He would never look at me the same way. Nor would my name ever sound so sweet.

I watched him fall for you and fight for you.

I sat by him when he cried his heart out for missing you.

I held it in when you let me in on your doubts, your fear of his devotion.

You were lucky, didn’t you know?

I wanted what you had, the love he gave you. Only you.

But I knew my place. My rights. And I was grateful with the friendship you two tied me onto.

I took it in when you accused me of saying that you weren’t good enough for him.

We both knew I never said such thing. But I realized my eyes never lied.

You weren’t in love with him. But you kept him for your own reasons.

And I had to watch you walk away from him, and towards another man.

Watching him cry hurt. And seeing the lack of remorse in your eyes even worse.

And it pained me to think that I had to witness it all. But that was what I got for being the other best friend.

 

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