The Remnants of What You Believe

I almost hyperventilated when talking to a friend today, about what I did to you. I thought of everything your friends and family are probably saying about me, and about us. I thought of words coming out of your mouth, that you probably believe, but know are not true.  I could hear you calling me names, saying what a rat I was for doing what I did, and how I probably just found someone that I thought was better at the time and how funny it is that now I came back to you, apologizing, and letting you know that what I did was wrong. How pathetic of a person I am to think you would forgive me for the injustice given to you, after all you had done for me. When in truth, it is imperative that all of us face what we have done to people, take the responsibility for it, so that maybe, just maybe, we can have a world full of people that understand we are all human, all make mistakes, and can be held accountable for them. Don’t make me a joke, make me an example.


Hearing words I know aren’t true

Led me to stand upon this cliff

You want to know the real me?

Watch, then take a whiff.

You say you should have ran from me

You’re right, I believe that is what you should have done.

For love doesn’t count any cost

Or were you there, just for fun?

Love doesn’t seek the advice of friends

Or speak rudely of one another.

It tenderly takes a hand in need

Like a newborn, to its mother.

You think you wasted life on me?

What else would you have been doing?

Drinking your life into a bottomless pit

While your anger does the pursuing?

While every good deed I have ever done

Gets lost in your angst filled bereave.

I’ll sit knowing your garden is full of weeds

In the remnants of what you believe.

One thought on “The Remnants of What You Believe

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Create a website or blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: