„I loved you, and you would let me die.“

I loved you,

every single day,

throughout every year of my life.

I cherished you,

even when I knew,

that the affection I harbored for you

would remain unrequited.

I loved you,

oh, I was naive,

believing that you could even love me a bit,

love me at all.

I held you dear,

even when the world told me not to.

I presumed to love you,

fueled by unwavering faith.

Now,

I realize,

that I never stood a chance not to love you.

Because when you left,

you took something with you,

something that belonged to me.

Something delicate.

Something that needs to be taken care of.

But you wouldn’t take care of it.

You neglected its safety.

You let it decay,

in the dark corners of yours.

You took my heart.

And I never got it back.

She never got it back.

I grew a new one.

But the scars from where you ripped the old one out,

still remain.

And even with my newfound heart,

I endure pain.

You cause me pain.

I yearn for it.

Not for you.

My old heart.

Kind.

Unburdened.

Vulnerable.

Genuine.

It was exquisitely beautiful.

Because it was nourished with the love of a thousand other souls.

For every heart I got, I gave away a part of mine.

I had this beautiful love,

consisting of a thousand other loves.

See,

my heart was so beautifully open.

However, you taking it,

and the fear of someone taking it again has made me grow this heart differently.

Cold.

Sealed.

Fearful.

Disingenuous.

Repelling.

So that now,

when someone steals my heart and permits it to decay,

it will be nothing to be sad about, since there was no beauty lost.