Are you even aware of all the pain
you caused me every single time ?

A short mail with a sorry at the end
You think that compensates
for all the pain you caused
or even that which you caused
with your short mail

Didn't you just want "space"
I wasn't even ready
you showed me a world
where we were about to fly
and threw me down from the 7th sky

Hours turned into days
but for once
I didn't see days even turn to weeks
or weeks into months
months of forever

Do you even know the feeling
when you love a person
and care about them so much and miss
so much that they become a part of
your very existence

Do you even know the feeling
of loving a person so much
with your heart and soul
that you lose your mind
missing them

Perhaps you may or may not know that
but there is something you surely
do not know
The feeling when that very person
walks all over you heartlessly

I took your word
when you said
this was just space you needed
it wasn't supposed to be a setup
to fck me over

Perhaps for you this is a game
all just a measure of pain
to see how much it takes
for my skin to tear apart and
for me to bleed out of my eyes

You don't even know what its like
when your soul is being ******
out of your body
yet the only name you can still think of
is of the one you love
and they still choose to walk all over
your dying breaths

fck your sorry
and fck you

you've left me in sickness
and you've left me in health
you've left me in droughts
and you've left me in rain
you've left me while dying
and you've left me crying

You've left me again and again
and I've stuck by you in times
that you left and those when your
need was a hand to hold and cry
or when you wanted to rip that same skin
in your anxiety & pain

I saw what he did to you
I saw the blackmail
I saw the false pain he painted
I heard his fake screams
and your real ones
and so I wondered

I wondered why
you painted the same pain
with blood and heartbreak
and called me a monster all night
while asking me to help you
these were the same words he used

This was the same pain he gave you
in different ways
with different doses
for different incentives
yet still
the same pain

You'd come back
and I'd believe you to stay
I believed that you would stay
at least for the time you had promised
and its not my fault
if you had promised forever

You'd leave again
like everytime
but I knew you'd come back
like everytime
but this time you say is different
like everytime
and I'm left knowing nothing
like everytime

I had believed my first kiss (you)
would also always be my last
I fought for it to be
maybe I still might
but then how are you so comfortable
kissing lips that aren't mine

You hated your name
perhaps because he told you
that it meant "mine" (his)
But I made you love it
because I showed you its real meaning
The gift from God

Hence I wonder
what makes you hurt me
the way he hurt you
what makes you leave
around every corner
when what is needed is a fight

I am no saint no savior no medic
but I stuck through your nightmares
and I bared the pain you caused
only to sit you down
and stop you from killing
what I had in me for you

But you are My Killer
finding reasons to leave me
ways to hurt me
procedures to rip open
my chest and cut through my heart
that beat with your two syllable name

I still wonder why
and the one reason you offer
is just not strong enough
or good enough
to leave someone in the ways
you left me

I'm no saint
but I've never left you in pain
the way you've always left me

"I can see my door, my bed, my window, my chair, and my table.

"I can feel my spine against the wall, my feet against the floor, my jaw tightly shut, and my fingernails buried in my arms.

"I can hear the wind coming in from the open window, my heartbeat rapidly thumping, and that familiar voice in my head, shouting once again.

"I can smell the dampness of the ground outside as the breeze carries it to my room, and the sickly sweet odor from the soap used on my hands.

"I can ******* blood spilling from the bite in my lip; my last harsh reminder that
        I
        am      
        still
        alive.

You are a novel
gathering dust on my shelf
but not because I don’t want to read
but because I’m afraid
to turn the page,
afraid of how you’ll end