You could tell him anything
And those secrets were safe.
But you were in love with manipulating him
And lying to his face.
The games, the toying,
How coy of a girl to ruin
A boy, a hero,
The one she calls her own.
And while you dangle carrots
Of friendship and what it should mean,
He realizes how distorted
All of this folly must seem.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
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