i could still feel your touch.
your warm hands caressing me.
soft fingers.
a finger gliding across my skin.
i asked you if you regretted it.
you said yes.
i didn't expect anything less.
i was a wreck when you left.
for you, it was like nothing happened at all.
i was attached, obsessed, addicted.
you were nonchalant through it all.
i was hanging onto your every word.
and you strung me along.
no, that's not it.
you said from the start
how you felt
and what you didn't feel
towards me.
i was a fool
who thought that you'd change your mind
and fight for us
like they do in the movies
and in the novels.
but this is real life.
and what's real
is that
you never loved me.
YOU ARE READING
twenty three
Poetrywritten by a twenty three year old; in the year of twenty twenty three.