no title

How do you do a thing like that,
Dont the guilty feelings keep coming back,
Or are you so immune to it,
That real feelings are what you lack.

You were a rose on my pedestal,
The highlight of my life,
When your colors changed to black,
I was left with only strife.

You said you werent the type,
To double-stab my back,
But when it all comes down to it,
Your minds a one way track.

Now to end all this exposure,
And take away your fame,
This poem is my closure,
So no one knows your name.