At this point I find your attachment amusing and your friendship forced.
So you give attention and affection at your leisure and take the convenient break
to kiss other mouths that flatter you, guaranteeing you you're ok.
And you speak of the dreadful ways she effects your heart. And I become green
with envy and exasperated with the cliche pattern. And then you run back into her
ungrateful arms.
Because for you it's more familiar to get hurt than it is to feel loved

I'm just convenient. A fallback. A retreat. An appointment.
A vacation. A warm blanket. A second honeymoon
I'm the doctor who kisses the scars on your heart.
I'm the tear-stained shoulder and the ears in which to talk.
I am nothing you couldnt find in someone else.

I'm just sick of reading how you're happy, and then hearing how you want to die. So, enjoy the smiles that she gives you this week. And I will just hope to hear from you again. And maybe this time you could embrace me with pleasant words instead of the typical broken heart drama I have grown so custom to. But no matter what I know I will be here for you to retell your sad story to and I will always be the one agreeing that someday she will realize what she lost.
...And that's not a brash statement. But, if, as they say, history repeats itself (and it does), this cycle will continue