the terrible thing

If something were to happen to my Friend,

I would grieve so much how he grew to hate me,

and I would wish so helplessly that I could have said goodbye,

and all the love we talked about would be a memory -- 

not of love, but of love that was not; 

love that was faked and then taken back and utterly denied. 

I believed it wholeheartedly, but that didn't make it real. 

And that is the most terrible thing, or maybe that's the saving grace. 

Because I would always remember that it wasn't real, 

so I would always be able to tell myself that I hadn't lost anything at all.