The Rant

The blank paper staring at me

is asking me to let it out

this paper has been 

a generous friend

the only generous friend

more so in my anxious and jumpy days

it never gets tired of the rant

the rant that mostly consists of past

of people who meant the world to me

at some point in time

but are no longer around

the rant where I curse myself

for letting these people in

and showing them the closets

and crevices of my heart

the rant in which I am restless

that these people are still out there

with all my secrets 

where I regret sharing 

everything that should have 

belonged only to me

the rant where I am disappointed in me

for falling in the trap

not once but twice

for falling for the facade 

for falling for something that 

was never real

the rant that laments about

choosing them and their facade

over my own being

I keep on pouring

and this paper, my most generous friend

keeps on soaking it all in