I shunned the colour pink
for you,
was the best friend you had wanted,
But it must not have been enough
for you.

I broke into tears at a moment's notice
for you,
tried to make you happy
every chance I could find.

I stood up
for you
when others pushed you down;
I nodded in agreement
with you
when you spoke badly of those
who had betrayed you.

I wrote poems, stories,
for you,
and delighted in the emotion-filled tears
of wonder that
they made you cry.
I even tried to write
a melody
for you.
But it must not have been enough
for you,
was it?

What did I ever ask
from you?
Certainly not this.

And now that I am despised
for you?

I guess I got sick of monochrome,
'cause I bought another pink tank top.
I wear it when I think
of you.

And now, I am the one who's fallen,
but you're the one who pushed me.
Now others nod their agreement
when you speak of my betrayal,
the one I still don't know I committed.

And the tears?
I guess I still cry them
for you,
because there they are,
evidence against the theory that
I don't cry.
I suppose I do,
but only for you.

You professed love
for me once.
Once, I thought love meant
accepting a person
for who they were.
You hate me
for being myself
instead of the person
you want me to be.

This is my last poem
for you.
I hope this one makes you sob.
I know you can always be relied upon to
for yourself.
You never did seem to have enough
How about now?
I've had enough.

For you, PKVKN. I loved you.