Sometimes I get really angry that You left me.
Sometimes I understand that it was for the best,
that I am finally free of your toxic behaviors
that dragged me down, though I didn’t even realize.

Sometimes I get sad that You left me.
I look through pictures, remembering the adventures you gave me,
dreams that no one else could have made reality.
The stupid things that we did together that made me live more
in one year than I ever have in my whole lifetime.

Sometimes I am indifferent that You left Me,
because I know your thought process and where the blame lies.
I know that you blame me, and I know that you will never understand
the truth of what actually happened, because the truth was always your weakness.

Sometimes I regret that You left Me.
I thought about reaching out many times, until finally
I did.
And we talked. That reminder of Us was there; that passion, that fire.
And you left me on Read for all the months after,
because I had asked how your life was going.

Sometimes I get really angry that you left Me,
because you post about how you’re lonely and sad,
how nice it would be to have friends.
Just like you do every time you let a friend go,
crumbling them between your fingers and watching their ashes fly away from you,
wondering, “why are they leaving me?”