Losing game

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I’m not an idiot.

At least not as much as you seem to think.

I know you were with her.

It doesn’t matter when or how long or what you did.

While you’re giving yourself to her, you’re losing more than you know.

Your perfect illusion of happiness.

She makes you feel wanted.

Smart.

Funny.

Loved.

It’s understandable why you want that.

I want it to.

Guess fairy tales don’t come true.

Happy endings only come after seedy massages.

Not in this life.

Not in this love.

Maybe you’ll be happy.

Until she sees the full version.

The unedited you.

It’s almost as bad as you think I am.

Your “love”‘s a mockery.

A slap in the face.

Evidence of your hatred.

Toward me.

Toward yourself.

I’m angry.

I’m broken.

I wish we could have lived.

Loved.

Laughed.

Lasted.

No one wins this game.

We never even realized we were playing.

Sorry for my faults.

There are many.

Sorry for your blindness.

To what we could have had.

If you’d loved me like you love her.

If I’d loved you without fear.

Without regret.

We both could have kept it.

Learned to love again.

But we were blind to it.

To what is slipping away,

Maybe already gone,

In this losing game.

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7 thoughts on “Losing game

    • The majority of this blog is fiction. I’m planning on exploring the darker side of the human condition in some upcoming posts, but I think I’ll put a “possibly fiction” disclaimer out first.

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