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In everything, there is tears
no sorrow is untold
but my fears are less simple
as the plot unfolds:

the clock ticks
the watch slips of the cocked wrist
pointed heavy, the pun
load and lock this
spotless bullet of words
she revealed to me
even more the absurd
they appealed to me
even more than the hurt
that i wrote with the pen
my heart was soaked
in a load of pretend
when i wrote
i devoted the pen
when i spoke
i denoted the when
where and how,
but was slow to defend
my own actions-
know the intent
to preserve her own dignity
know she's a friend

---*or even better yet, was*---

and if only hearts were that simple
and mine were unbound
i was waiting for a "thank you"
but didn't hear a sound
if only hearts were that simple
so i took the blame
made myself look bad
so she wouldn't look the same.....