I know you're confused.
You wonder how it could go from "i love you" to "i don't care" in just one day.
Somehow, between the lines of of his "sweet dreams" and "goodbye"
you became one of his forgotten dreams.

Oh, and it breaks my heart more
to know that you spent all your time praying to God, if there is one
to take you back in time,
and you prayed really hard that day
even if you don't consider yourself religious.
Because you were lost and broken, so maybe God will take pity on you,
even just once.

You and I both know that deep within that broken self of yours,
it is being held by a sliver of hope.
That's why you didn't crumble.

You were taken aback so much,
that you didn't even cry.
You just lied on your bed, staring into the darkness that is engulfing you, like a mother cradling her child.
If monsters were real, you hoped that they come and get you that night.
But they didn't.
So you woke up in the morning, feeling nothing.
You were glad you had a reason to skip school that day.

And you finally cried,
as if your tears finally realized you needed to let out the pain.
You took three showers that day,
only because your mom caught you crying in your room.

Oh and I beg you, don't put that blade on your skin.
And I know you remembered how you promised to him that you wouldn't hurt yourself.
So you kept your promise,
you drew flowers on your wrists instead.

But it has to get better right?
You're going to run out of tears soon.

So this is why this letter is made,
letting you know that  poets write their pain on a paper,
not on their skin.