Remember your last words to me?
I sure can't forget them.
You knew where to hit to make me hurt for real,
and you went for it.

I tried to keep my cool.
For every attack you sent my way,
I swallowed my pride, and took it like a man.
I played without defense or offense.
I could not win. I didn't want to.
I just wanted it to be over.

Eventually it was, but not before you delivered the final blow.
The "coup de grâce", as the french would say.
I was done. Finished. Hurt.

I don't blame you for what you did.
You played a hurtful game, and won.
I'm not the same person I was before that day.
I wish you no bad, but I wish you no good either.