The voice of doubt is one much stronger than the voice of reason.
I had not doubted you.
I used my reason as an excuse not to doubt you.
But then your patterns grew gravely familiar.
I could predict your interest, to a point where I was no longer an attraction but a possession.
Merely a requirement to you.
I was nothing more than a scrap.
Something you cared for once, then got weary of when introduced to something beyond you.
Sick of your own effortless routine that I had become a part of.
The part in which I had played the leading role.

I frequented your conceited yet altruistic mind.
Invited you to join mine; so we could aspire together.
You only did as you wished.
Failed to recognize my absents when my side of us went still.
You unsucessfully took note to my dire craving for your attention.
Yet you managed to achieve the stability
of your own well rounded needs.    

I now doubt you under the influence of reason.
Your lack of heed gave me no incentive to pursue your mindless regime.
I doubt you know what you have.
What you had.