I am sick of wasting my energy
Convincing people that I am deserving of their affection
That I am deserving of love from those who I want it most.
All they've done is take and demand more.
Slightest afflictions would send me
profusely apologizing.
Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
When I owe nothing of the sorts.

You say I betrayed you, but you stopped talking first.
You say I left you behind but I don't recall your footprints by mine.
You're life has changed and you hate that.
I'm just a reminder of what your life used to be like.
I am not responsible for your happiness,
yet you mar mine.
You didn't want to hurt alone,
so you ensured I'd hurt too.

I let the numbness wash over
calluses form on my heart, roughly applied.
The first time hurts, but eventually it hurts a little less.
Blisters form until that thick patch of skin builds up
and my patience wears down,
and now my empathy can be short-lived.

We swapped roses,
unaware yours had thorns.
I pricked my finger
and now the yellow is stained with red
and skin will need to be cleaned and bandaged
and the heart continues to be broken despite increased fortification.

I thought what doesn't **** you makes you stronger,
that it creates perseverance.
And it does,
but it hardens the soft in spirit
and my patience is no longer there for you.
And leaving gets easier.
Saying goodbye gets easier
And it hurts a little less.
I care a little less.
And I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.