it was never about you
you’re beginning to get that now
their snide words, dismissals,
that frustrating scoffing noise
and roll of the eyes,
the way they broke your heart,
and tore up your dreams,
or even just ruined your day.

it wasn’t about you.

it was about them.
of course it was,
what else? who else?
why would they apologize?
they did nothing wrong,
after all, it’s your fault
for taking it so personally,
for expecting otherwise.
they were just being honest,
just looking out for themselves.

what a waste of time, they say,
no sympathy for the weak.
(how cruelly chosen your words,
they haunt me even months later)
you pay in money, in time, in effort,
you try to hang onto memories,
of singing and sunshine
and the salty air by the sea
(i cried for hours
on my bedroom floor,
sobbing and heaving
hoping i would vibrate apart)

you edit yourself constantly
now you have nothing left to say,
everything crossed off
(everything too vulnerable)
they ask why you never respond
(i’ve learned it’s better not to)
you are silent and stagnant
filled with hurt,
cracks poorly glued together
(no thanks to you)

it’d be over with anyone else,
stricken and blocked and stored away,
wrapped in old newspaper
boxed and taped up,
let the dust make things softer,
let the sharp edges wear away.
(and yet, still, i revolve around you)

if this is what love is, it’s a disease.
(tear it out of me.
just let me heal)

jacksgreyson, Untitled (2017-04-24)

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