You called me insecure,

Because I told you we couldn't be friends.

You no longer defended me against his cruel words.

I told you, I did. 

"No second chances." 

I stand firm in my words,

"When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?"

You spoke of mistakes, things to fix, things to grow from,

"It's not the person refusing to let go of the past but the past refusing to let go of the person."

i feel nostalgia brushing her cold fingers across the palms of my hands, my forehead, the back of my neck