“Despite whatever happens between us just know you did nothing wrong. The only thing you did was be dedicated, and loving which is what makes you amazing.”

Why don’t you shoot me in the fucking 

face because that would have been way 

less painful than hearing the person you 

love tell you that they love their freedom 

more than you. That they would rather 

not have to be bothered with considering 

someone else’s feelings, thoughts, opinions 

whenever they feel like doing anything. 

That being able to do whatever you want 

is better than being with the person you 

“love so much”. 

I really thought I had a good thing. I really 

thought I found someone good, who loves me, 

and cares about me, and gives a fuck. Not 

proving me right, that everyone leaves, 

that good people don’t exist, that I’m 

not meant to be happy. 

What makes me sick is how much of the 

day I spend thinking about you, while you 

can go about your day and not even reach out. 

Knowing that you probably couldn’t care less if 

you don’t hear from me all day, that you couldn’t 

care less that I sit here crying, loving you knowing 

it’s probably pathetic, and I probably sound like a 

fucking idiot.  

Where I know if I don’t call you, you wouldn’t 

even notice that 6 hours have gone since the last 

time you heard my voice. But you can follow my 

social media to see what I’m doing, to see a glimpse 

in how my days are going without you. 

Let me make this easy for you. My life is hell, 

because all I’ve done is love you. I did everything 

and anything I can possibly think of to make us work. 

That I gave this relationship 150% effort and 

commitment and you can barely give me the time of day.

But that’s how love is supposed to feel right? 

It’s supposed to make you feel like you’re better 

off dead right? Or have I been handed the short 

end of the stick this entire fucking time?

I grip the tequila bottle to help with the bleeding, 

because it’s the only thing that I can depend on 

that will keep me from drowning in the pain that 

suffocates me. I drink and drink until the bottle 

becomes emptier than me. 

When it’s dark at night and the nightmares choke 

my mind until I wake up screaming, my body 

unconsciously rolls over looking for yours because 

she doesn’t realize that you’re gone and why I 

can’t sleep next to your side of the bed anymore. 

That i have to sleep on the edge of my king 

sized bed, curled into a ball and cry because 

there’s no one there. That your fingers won’t 

graze my skin, run over the curves of my body, 

kiss my collarbone, bury your face in my shoulder 

and tell me all the sweet things that my mind believed. 

She doesn’t understand, but I do.

My mind knows there’s a 99.99% chance 

it’s over but my
heart still clings to the .001% chance that 

this was all just some simple misunderstanding,
that you didn’t mean it, that you’ll come back,
that you’ll crawl into my bed and run your fingers through 
my hair, telling me how much you love me,

that you’ll remember the future we planned, the life we envisioned,
the dog, the kids, and the wrap around porch, the big back yard,
that you’ll remember how much I meant to you,
that you’ll see me the way i’m supposed to be seen, that
you’ll hold the way that I’m supposed to be held, that
you’ll love me the way I’m supposed to be loved, that
you’ll treat me the way I’m supposed to be treated. and
until then,

I’ll cry
and cry
and cry 
until the sun dies out
because if you give me a match, 

I’ll give you a forest fire because 

I don’t know how to love small.