As I sit here and wonder, "what did I do wrong?",

I hold back the words in my throat that I held for so long.

And I turn over the page in my mind where you once were,

To something that I wrote down, of the words you never heard.

I was your 'only one'; your 'soulmate'; you 'wife'.

Until you slit my trusts and heart with a dull knife.

And I bled for days, days since you hurt me dear,

Even though everything, one year later, is still unclear.

I know I don't love you, even though it was questioned some days,

And now I'm left here, still bleeding and so afraid, of the mess, the big ******* mess that you made.

I don't want you back, nor do I need you here.

But sometimes, I wish the storm would clear.

And all the insecurities I once held close would go away,

And all the hurt I hold in my heart would go astray.

I normally don't feel this incomplete, over a simple mess;

I normally pick myself up, and be filled with forgiveness.

But this time, as I turn that page in my mind,

I rip out the page of you and me, and put it aside.

And I pull out a red match, and drench the page with gasoline,

And burn those sweet memories, along with the words I will never speak.