Two Sides to Every Coin
You won your imaginary battle long ago, my dear, when you chased away the real love proffered, seeing only what others conjured in your mind, not what was there, making it into something perverse for the sake of appearances. You did not want it and you did not take it, and he cannot make time rewind to make it otherwise.
You rejected the desire, rejected the friendship, though what you did tacitly spoke other words, before you tried to kill him for his caring, making him into the monster you wanted him to be.
You have won, my dear. There is no bringing it back. There is no second chance, as you’ve proclaimed it so.
But you’ve lost, my dear, and you know that it is so, for you cannot let go even now, driving yourself mad to convince yourself your decisions were right, praying for the pain to stop, though your god makes you feel it for your lack of compassion. Your decisions weren’t right, as you are well aware, as you still cry about it.
Your heart still hurts. No. Enough with the lies, for you know it still lives there and pains you, but you never ask yourself why, after all this time. You reason it away, striving to replace it with hate, when there is no need, and your god cannot approve anymore than your soul. And he knows what you tell them is not true, hiding your feelings in your chest. And what good does it do you to have them console you? Console you for what? You do not care, remember?
But you’ve won, my dear. You won a long time ago. For he cannot make you see him any other way than you choose. But that does not mean he must be quiet and swallow his suffering. And you still watch him in his pain. Why? You have no feeling, so you say. His words mean nothing to you. So what does it matter what he says? And you’ve made yourself absurd with your network of spies, driven by their group-think not the truth, like children.
You have won, my dear, for there is no reconciliation, as you listened to bad advice and broke any chance for it, and created an enemy for life where none ever desired to exist. You’ve refused to admit your guilt and left him without your aid. So keep your rabid dogs to yourself, for he will not be kind to them and they have no idea what you get them into.
But you’ve lost, my dear, for there is no taking his love now, love that was unconditional and only for you. As he will never have yours, so you will never have his again, not in any way that matters. And the words of others, the lusts, will never replace his sincerity. He is content to die alone, for, unlike you, he does not need to pretend to be happy with anyone of convenience who is not what his heart wants. If he does not feel their soul, he’d rather be alone. And, as you have chosen spite over atonement, your heart will be alone in every crowded room, in any man’s bed you take to console yourself. You cannot have real when you cannot be real.
You have lost, my dear, for you have turned yourself into a hateful person to give yourself reason to dismiss him forever. And he is dismissed. He is forever gone, never for you to embrace again, never to make you laugh or smile. He is gone and, as you’ve decreed, he will never return, not his heart. It is no longer yours, as all you have is hate and have stabbed it again and again. He is fine with you hating him, because it means you lied about not loving him. And your continued, desperate need to defame him speaks to your dishonest heart.
But you’ve won, my dear, as you tell yourself. You can go live whatever it is you think is meaningful, without him. He flies without you, as you wanted. You wanted an enemy, and you have one. I guess that is what you consider winning.
And you have lost, my dear, for you will never forget him, no matter how hard you try.
But you have won, although it was never something anyone could win.