A poem of heartbreak, foolishness, and more heartbreak:

Your confidence, my trust.

Your confidence? I’ve built you up. You idly sit and watch as I construct your pedestal, the throne that through my eyes is at an unattainable height. I speak so highly, give so judiciously, care so passionately. You see it with your very own eyes. I build, build, build, too high. You see me from up there. You are above me. Looking down, then over. At him. I tell you you’re great, but you think you’re greater, than I. I fall, you reach and take hold, of him. I grasp for something, anything, to hold but alas I fall. To pieces. I fall, fall, fall, until once again I am in your lap. Restarting the cycle which pained me so. And again you ruin me. And again I am faced with a choice. Forgive or forget. But, no. Never again will I build your throne. Never again will you leave me in shambles, holding nothing but the crushed pieces of my broken heart, and an outdated roadmap of a distant, nonexistent future. I move on, he moves on, you regress. There goes your confidence and before it, my trust.