I failed you,
I failed you,
I failed you,
as a lover,
and a friend.
The blood has drained,
the night has settled,
but the love won't leave.
I pour words onto the pain,
pain uses me in return by,
pointing out the futility,
of everything I've written.
Pain questions my words,
and on bad nights,
my dear friends,
I do the same.
Andy Veilleux 
this has a tinge of remorse of not having done something that needed to be done.
but you’ve gotta let it go.
“And all of my words were false” so what has changed? emotion.
a beautiful poem, but writing is not enough to deal with pain.
hope it isnt all too raw or painful.
xxx
the line is actually a play on Bukowski’s “and all of my poems were false” which is a great line. I suggest reading some Bukowski, amazing poet 🙂