Wasted Trees and Words Unspoken

tell me that

we meet at our spot,
and i'm settled by the swingset.
you remind me of my reasoning for writing this, and i want to say,

"tell me that the sight of me
makes you sick.
that you can't stand me,
the same way that you make me
fall to my knees.
that i've bashed and broken you beyond repair,
and that no amount of begging
will bring you back into my life."

"tell me that the toxicity of
our time together has tormented you.
tell me that your dreams are disturbed by my presence.
tell me that the stars will fade
if i wish once more for your company. tell me that my poetry is pathetic, pointless, and putrid to read.
and i'll let you go for good."

you look into the moonlight.
a puff of park air passes between us.
my words don't work anymore,
so i sit wanting you to tell me that

if clocks could rewind,
you'd take it all back.
that we'd keep our kingdom
of chaos and despair.
that among us two,
there'd be no lies or betrayals.
that you'd rip open your ribcage,
expose your emotions to me,
and let your heart be the art
that you never wanted to show me.

i want to hear you tell me that
you hate me, the same way i hate you.