“I write too, you know.”
I speak as if I’m very small behind his laptop.
As he pores over his ex girlfriend’s poems.
About me,
and the hope that we fall apart.
He doesn’t care that this upsets me.
“I feel like I’m dating an attention seeking infant.”
He tells me as tears pour down my face.
For the fourth time today.
He doesn’t understand
what it feels like to love everyone
Until it’s all gone.
And there isn’t any left for yourself.
He doesn’t understand
What it feels like to struggle to get through your day.
To face people you have to give up on.
To give up on yourself.
“You’ve become so codependent.”
He tells me with his eyes closed.
He doesn’t know
That I needed him
Because everyone else gave up.
But then he gave up too.
He doesn’t understand
That this poem isn’t for him.
It’s for you.
And you can gloat,
Or cry.
As much as you’d like.
