I'd like to cry out the feelings that I own,

But there's no one to cry to, I'm just alone.

My thoughts are muddled by your whispered lies,

I'm not yet dead, but I wish, while I cry.

Although I still blame you, I do not hate you.

Even if what you said was not true.

You are not my soulmate because of strife,

Yet I still love you, you are the love of my life.

This is my message, my ending letter.

To be honest, your friends will probably say "forget her."

I know that you love someone else, yet I'm fine.

She's more beautiful than me, simply divine.

I'm rereading this, over and over, which I regret.

I just want to cover my ears, to forget.

I just want this poem to end.

But a poem never actually finishes.

It just stops moving.