You said forever,
and I
I believed like a child watching stars crash into oceans,
with fists full of broken promises
and pockets sewn shut by trust.

You took
something I can never get back.
My time.
My love.
My ******* everything.
You drank it like sweet wine,
spat it like sour truth.

I stood
through every fight
like the last soldier guarding a war no one cared to win.
I showed you joy
like colors to the blind,
a sky without roof,
a breath without fear.

You learned yourself
through me.
But did you ever learn me?

We painted sunsets.
Played in sand
like gods pretending not to bleed.
My best friend now has fur and four paws
she never lied,
never left.

And you...
you said you’d follow me to the ends of the earth.
Turns out you meant
until it got hard.
Until love
looked more like sacrifice
and less like escape.

I wasn’t jealous.
I was open.
Transparent.
A mirror with no back
and still
you ran.

And now,
six years crawl like ash in my lungs
and still,
I choke on your name
sometimes.
Sometimes, I smile.
Sometimes,
I rage like a storm that forgot how to rain.

You took what was sacred
and turned it
into strategy.
Calculated exits.
Silence like knives.

And I
I gave you music,
poetry,
freedom,
truth.
I gave you me.

Family
You said they hurt you,
used you,
bruised you.
And I believed.
But in the end,
you chose them
chose comfort in chaos
over the revolution of love.

You’ll say I was the villain.
Fine.
Every fairytale needs one.
But let the record bleed:
I built you
while I was breaking.

I gave you the map
and you used it
to leave me
stranded.

So no
I don’t forgive.
Not yet.
Maybe never.

Because how do you forgive
someone who burned down
the only home you ever built
with your bare hands?

And how do you forget
a fire that still
burns in your bones?

When I look into the eyes
The eyes of the past
and feel hollow.

You were rich with me.
We were rich in love,
in commitment,
in laughter,
in all the things
money can’t fake.

And still,
you threw it away
like loose change
in a foreign land.

I don’t care if you hide.
Memories
don’t need light
to haunt.

I still smell your ghost.
Still hear your voice
in songs we wrote.
Still see your smile
in the ruins of what could have been.

But never again.
Never again will I
give someone the key
to a kingdom they plan to plunder.

You were my best risk
and my greatest ruin,
even if all I was left with
was loss.

Maybe I’ll forgive,
one day,
when the stars stop remembering
how your name
felt like both prayer
and punishment.

But I will never forget.

Never.