Should I be glad for I'll soon let go
of the discreet cord you used to girdle around my neck
Or should I feel the resentment for hurting you while I'm in pain?
I apologize
for being stuck between
experiencing the pang of guilt and innocence.
But encompassing all of these,
I'll set you out single-handedly
knowing I'll be gone even though
I'm still here
caring
caring
caring
and still caring about you.
I'm in such a chaos for convincing myself that I do care
but showing you the exact opposite thing.
Nonetheless, I'll be gone.
But never, ever left.
a poem that I won't send to you