What hurts 
is that you knew you broke me.

You knew you tore me apart,
and yet you continued on with your day—

like nothing happened.
You knew I’d go to bed crying 
every single night
 because I couldn’t bear the thought
 of life without you in it.

But you didn’t seem to care.
You knew I was attached—

so why did you let go?

You knew my heart was delicate,
and I opened it to you completely.

But all you did was neglect it.

Break it.
You only ever cared about your feelings.

But what about mine?

Am I that invisible to you?
Days turned into weeks,

weeks into months,

months into years—

and you haven’t said a single word.
Do you really hate me that much?

That’s what I’ve asked myself

over and over again.
But maybe you never hated me.

Maybe I just didn’t matter.