Jaded By Life

My memories of him are consumed
in intoxicated despair. True
love had forsaken me. It was
tainted and chaotic, you told me
that my misery was my fault.

He never wanted to correct me with
his hand, but how was I to know
that my behavior was forbidden
if he never hit me?

I fabricated stories or actions
to cover my injuries and melancholy
but you, my friend, saw through the
masquerade. You saw how desolate I
was under my life of glitter, warning
that it could lead to my demise.

Then you my friend, came to
my aide, killing him during a
fight. I can't love you back
though. My love for him is
bittersweet and I am too jaded
by life to go on.