Relapses

It sucks to be the odd man out
in a love triangle.
Sometimes,
when I see them walking together
my smile drops
my heart stops
and I can feel a wave of pain
start from my heart,
rippling through my body
crashing through everything that made me happy.

But that's just temporary
just a relapse
relapse in judgment,
in sanity,
in not enough time to heal,
in I don’t want to see you right now.

I want to them know how I feel,
to know they got me hooked on a drug called betrayal,
as surely as if their hands
guided the needle into my vein
pushing the darkness deeper into my heart.

They drove me crazy
when they both took their hearts
and their friendship drugs
and left me.
In the dead of night,
in an instant they eloped
taking my sanity with them.

I needed them,
but I watched from the sidelines
as they lived their lives in happiness,
while I was a hormonal mess.
I needed them.

I used to inhale them everyday,
used to feel support they gave me
fill my lungs to capacity
spreading through out my body
in waves of ecstasy.
And all my stress and worry
would disappear in a puff of smoke.
I know I took them for granted
knowing that if I paid them in friendship
they'd always be there.

Now, with every mistake they make
I sit alone getting drunk on their apologies
and the never ending need to be right.
Every shot of "I'm sorry"
they serve,
leaves me with the bitter aftertaste of disbelief.

The more I drank
the more I needed
to feel like the victim.
They gave me honest apologies,
promises of repentance,
but trust cannot be returned
as simply as a stolen item.
They kept me delusional
with promises of the friendship we once had.
And I fell for it.

I fell hard every time they let me down
every week we didn't speak,
every time I wasn't needed anymore.
They cut my heart open
time and time again,
and every time the scar
was just about to heal,
they cut again.

It took every bit of sanity I had left
to seal the wounds stitch by stitch
without their drugs.
I hurt every time I tired moving forward
every step heavy with
"they left me behind."
The relapses are never ending.

I, I suppose I became drunk
on that pain,
addicted to the sorrow of remembering.
Everyday, just to fix my needs
I would watch the green video chat button
light up next to their names
signaling that I was official the third wheel.
I became high on depression.

I know I'm going crazy
this depressed, over possessive girl
isn't me.
It's the monster under my bed,
the stupid devil in my head
my sin
my pain
my relapse.

I guess I got tired of fighting my pain
so I let myself go insane
just to ease the strain on my heart.
I've been told confession is the start
of fixing yourself.
Is it that obvious I need fixing?
So this is my confession,
my broken past,
my attempt at rehab.
This is my fresh start.