You broke my heart. I’ll never forgive you for that.
And even as I love you with everything I’ve got, I’ll still scorn you at every opportunity and pray that you know what this feels like one day. Thirteen days, Markus. Three hundred and fifty-two days ago, we were engaged. You shouldn’t have said yes – or let me believe you did – if your heart wasn’t in it. My heart would’ve been okay, then. But the way you ended things was really shitty, and it still stings like fire on my soul. It’s not fair.
Three days ago. It happened, then. Do you remember? I cried afterward, after you left, because it hurt so badly. And I bled – faint pink blood that would’ve gone unnoticed. You didn’t kiss me, you didn’t hold me; you took what you wanted and left. That wasn’t fair, either – you stole something from me that I’ll never get back. Take what you want from this, I really don’t care. I want the world to know what happened between us; I don’t want to forget. You know, I still write stupid poetry about you. Do you get that? I’ve been blaming myself for almost a year. Only now, I realize that it wasn’t my fault at all. You were the one without a heart.
I’m never going to forget you, and I’m never going to get over you. Something changed on both of those days. Maybe it was for the worse, but either way it happened. So stop trying to pretend that I never existed; stop pretending that you didn’t take a nine month sojourn across the country to be with me. It’s not a failure on your part. That’s all on me. I’m the one that couldn’t keep you. And that? It really kills me sometimes.
