we are just two pieces of paper with etched ink and separately between pages

This is not a poem.
This are the words
I can't say,
This are the words
I'll never say.
The words
No one would hear, and
Perhaps no one
would read.
Pressing 'enter'
Now and then
I won't say
That I miss you
You won't hear that
Neither read it
I'm too proud
I'm too hurt
I'll say
This is  
Obnoxious
But I
Don't know really
What it means
I have just
An idea
Of the feeling
The words gives
Like your name
And perhaps
It will make
This
Seem like a poem
But it is not
Just some spaces
and words
But it is not
A poem
Some words in caps
other not so much
This is not a poem
I am not a writer
or a poet
I'm not even a lover
This is not a poem
And
I'm no longer a person.

You died, By Suicide
And I cried,
and cried and cried.
Inside, Part of me died
Cos you lied,
and lied and lied.
You’re gone, and I’m the one
To suffer on,
and on and on.
Why, Why? You had to lie?
Chose to die?
Oh why Oh why?
You knew, I loved you
So why you?
Why you? Why you?
I try to understand why
But I cry,
and cry and cry.
Heart break, a pain that makes
My soul ache,
and ache and ache.
You knew, what I’d go through
You had to!
**** you! **** you!
Sorry, but you hurt me
Needlessly,
badly, sadly.
Guilty and so angry
You left me
lonely, empty.
Someday, the hurt just may
Go away,
I pray and pray.
Love you, will always do
Forgive you?
That’s hard to do!

Now hope is good and hope is strong, but pain had stayed, for far too long, to see him cry and watch him fall, pain was there, through it all.

This pain he knew, now all too well, had swallowed hope, and left a shell, its brittle make, a jaded shape, left nothing then, for pain to take.

He cursed his name, and others too, because of pain, no one knew, but who could blame, a young mans curse, when dealt a hand, of luck reversed?

To live a life, of woes unfair, plagued by strife, as fate declared, that he would know, the pain of chance, all alone, in circumstance.

To make it worse, no one tried, to hear his words, and soothe his mind, they laughed at him, and mocked his pain, until he lost, all hope again.

No shock then, that he had shattered, weighed down so, by years of pain, though he cared, for all that mattered, no one dared, do the same.

So he gave himself, to all around, in hopes that he, could see them through, the pain they felt, when they were down, as pain to him, was nothing new.