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If I was a temporary means to an end,
And my usage is through,
I hope all my messages got through to you,
About how you felt like the calm before the storm.
Instead of having to contort to fit your needs you allowed me to fit easily into your hands however I pleased,
And allowed me to appreciate every single word you spoke to me.
It hurts to cling but I want to assure that you can be cared for in any state without the need of fixing or aid,
After all, I self appointed myself as an emotional secretary,
In hopes that my usefulness would assure a place on your shelf,
A moment in your life,
Inching closer,
Absolutely fucking terrified of the consequences of letting myself grow close,
Instead of running away from my emotions like I always do.
And yet I failed to mention how I also had an guarantee,
It's that when two months hit I know I'll mean nothing.
As men true to our words we hit the mark we made the quota you certainly left a mark.
I hope it scars.
Because the only thing that I would ever regret is not assuring you that you were truly a friend to me.
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