I threw our old pictures away today,
     and cried as I did it.
I had held on for a bit,
     not knowing exactly how to
     proceed.
I knew I didn't really want to keep them,
     but our end wasn't drastic enough
     for a burning.
But today, today I finally threw them away.
And I have no clue why,
     but it's tearing me up inside.
And I have another confession while I'm at it.
The other day, when I came by
     to pick up the last of my stuff?
You were teary-eyed and I tried my hardest
     to remain hard-hearted,
     and we talked it out a little.
You said you miss me still
     and I felt like a *******
     because I replied only, "I'm sorry."
I didn't want to tell you I miss you too,
     didn't want to lie to you.
But then, as I was leaving,
     you shut the door behind me,
     and I remembered I wanted
     to remind you
     about taking me off the lease.
I turned and opened the door,
     and I saw you finally releasing
     what you had been struggling
     to hold back in my presence.
You were walking towards your room,
     sobbing.
And I witnessed that moment
     when it wasn't meant for me.
The sound of your cries
     and the shaking of your shoulders
     has haunted me since,
     an unwanted movie stuck on repeat.
And I walked away.
And I threw our old pictures out today.
And maybe I actually was meant to see
     that moment of unbridled agony,
     so that I too could feel some of your misery.
Because you loved me,
Still love me,
and I destroyed you.