I will never tell you how much I died that day.
You will never understand the gravity of the blow, or the way I collapse in on myself at the end of the day. You will never see how large the drops on the pillowcase are, or all the pictures on the floor or all the times I placed it back on my finger.
You will never get to see me every damn morning gather all the strength I let fall on the ground the night before and pad myself together to look whole. You will never understand what you’ve done and you did and what you continue to do. Your very pride blinds you.
You will never get to see the moments that I can feel again. Or the moments when I don’t give in. Or the days when I can be happy without being sad.
You are a traitor and a thief in all the ways that you deny.
Because of you promises can never be made again. They are meaningless and useless and destroy me from within. Because of you I do not believe in love. I have no reason to believe otherwise. Because of you I no longer trust myself or anyone else or the intentions, however beautiful, they may have. Because of you I find myself going insane trying to figure out every single move.
I will never tell you how hard I cry. I will never tell you how much love I have inside that will forever be yours. I will never tell you that a love like ours will always be unfinished because you chose to give into your pride, and your stubbornness and your insecurity. I will never tell you what it felt like to everyday wake up beside someone who slowly overtime saw you as a thing and not as a person. I will never tell you all the lies of “I’m ok” and “maybe we should part” was really a desperate plea for you to tell me that I was worth fighting for. That when I opened up the door, I never thought you were already packing.
I will never tell you these things because you must already know.
That those vows were meant for life, and for my life. Your reasons are faulty and shallow and hollow and old and tired and lame. Grow up. This isn’t a game. Reach out. All those times I begged you to seek help and all those times I wanted to be your soul’s listener. But you denied and retreated and shut down and defeated my every gesture of love, of desperation, of hope, of truce.
I will never tell you all the things I should because you don’t want to hear them right now. Because you know if you do, that it will be too late and I will have learned to live somehow without you.