I guess I held out hope for long enough,
when you said you’d start dating again
I wanted you to mean me, but I knew you didn’t.
You are not mine, never were, not even close,
but I always hoped you said
“I wouldn’t date you because
I’m not attracted to you in that way,”
was just your way of saying,
“don’t pursue, I’m not ready.”
It took me a while to learn,
that you were just not into me.
Now you’re ready to put yourself out there,
and He looks like the first target,
and I read the innocent flirting,
the words you put together to confirm
that you are into Him.
I read it twice, okay, maybe three hundred times,
as a jealous person would,
trying to find every hidden meaning,
looking for… hope.
But there is none, at least not for me.
All that’s left is you, and Him,
making plans to be out and about
and I am left in my sadness,
alone, attempting to dig my way out of the sorrow.
And if you should call tomorrow,
and ask for me to come to you,
I doubt I’d make the trip,
the heart can only take so much,
before it moves on,
no longer holding onto hope,
free to live and love.