I do not weep for you.
I do not weep for us.
I weep for what we could have become.
I weep because I feel myself falling apart and somehow believe you’re the tailor who can sew me back together.
I weep because I saw you, holding him, kissing him as if my role in your life was the battleground to prepare you for your saviour.
I weep because we had that.
I weep hard, ridding myself of every drop of sorrow only for it to be replenished again, feeding from the source of beautiful memories where our minds were as intertwined as our fingers and our eyes were a grey blur of my blue and your magnificent green.
I weep fearing I will never stop weeping. Until my body is dry and decrepit.
I weep until I’m raw. Leaving only my devastated soul vulnerable to the reality of living one more day without you.
I weep because I allowed your happiness to become my water. I weep because I fought for you, lied for you and ultimately was willing to forget myself for you.
I weep because I miss me.
I weep because you have stolen that piece of my soul that allows me to function.
I weep because that piece of me that you have, once held me together.