In the end
what hurt the most
wasn't the confirmation
of how much he hated me.

It wasn't the verbal abuse
the words that linger
and haunt
causing pain all this time after.

It wasn't the emotional abuse
the neglect
or the cold heart
that cut
and left frost bitten scars
on my soul.

It wasn't the mental abuse
of how incompetent
how worthless
I am as a person
or how his voice still rings
in my head
trying to convince me
that I am not worthy of love.

What hurts the most is the hope.
Hope that he will change
Hope that he will heal
Hope that he will see me
for who I am
and not what he's tainted
and twisted
into the memory of.

The hope that
some small part of him
truly did love me
before
he aimed to destroy me.