You smile at me and I turn away, avoiding your gaze. Your smile slips, and you don't know – you can't know – that I don't turn away because I'm angry anymore, I don't turn because I'm mad or loathe you, hate you, terribly.
You don't know – you can't, not now, not ever – that I no longer do, that now I turn away because I'm hurt, because I'm scared of this, because I'm trying not to make the same mistake again – mistaking what I feel for you for something that will last.
You were never supposed to be the rebound, but you were; but how do you get over a rebound?
After I left you all I felt was relief, freedom, happiness – thanks to her, especially, thanks to her for seeing the edge I was standing on and bringing me back, for giving me the strength to do what I had to do, needed to do, yearned to and was terrified of doing – and then I felt anger, bitterness, at you for being who you are, for being arrogant and full of yourself and for the way you saw the world, the way you saw and talked to me – but most of all for not being able to make me feel more, stronger, longer.
You see, I gave up on so much to be with you; gave up on so much and took so much from her, from them, from others. No, love isn't supposed to be between more than two people, it isn't supposed to be unable to triumph – always, always triumph; but was that even love we had? Was it ever?
This tightening feels like heartbreak, but it isn't; it never really was with you, and besides, your heart can't break from throwing something away, can it? Not when that thing made you unable to sleep at night, not when that thing was not, was never enough, never would be and you knew it, and I did.
You didn't seem surprised when we talked. You seemed almost ready to cry, but that's silly; of course you wouldn't cry, at least not over me.
This would never, could never have worked, never will – at least not this year, next year, the year after that, but I'll always feel something for you; you should know that. You might have gotten the brunt of the heartbreak right when I did it, but I'll always have what-ifs and what-then's and why?'s swimming around my head, feeding off me, I'll never get a clean break from you; I can't, talking to you, looking at you violates the rules – the rules of friendship, the rules of life, the rules of me, the rules that will never be written and never should be, they are strong enough as is.
You smile at me and I turn away, but that isn't a tear sliding down my face; that isn't a tear, it never could be – I don't know how to cry for you, I don't know how to cry for me.

Sometimes I think I can only cry for her.