Confessions of a shitty poet.

Part XVII

How dare you.
How dare you say that to me after all this time. How dare you claim to be my friend and then use my weaknesses as an insult. How dare you pretend to love me, just to hurt me.
How fucking dare you.
***
Tonight I was in a car crash. Tonight, I could of died and I wouldn't of minded. I wasn't shook up and I wasn't scared. Everything stopped and my life could of finished in slow motion. How fitting, a movie-like ending. But, who would tell my story when if gone? Who's name would be on the directors credits? Who would I leave behind, who cares enough?
***
I'm in love with a broken man, a man who doesn't know his own worth. I'm in love with a man who thinks he's still a boy. In love with a man who wants to be a dad, but never a husband. I'm in love with a broken man.
There's a broken man, who's in love with a fractured girl. There's a broken man who's in love with a scarred girl. There's a broken man who's in love with a broken girl who craves unconditional love.
I'm the broken girl and I'm in love with the broken man. Now this isn't a fairytale and our love hasn't fixed us. We still wage war against ourselves. The broken pieces are still sharp and they still cut us, but it's a lot easier to cope with the pain when there is another broken soul to hold your hand.
***
I am a broken girl, and I am in love with a broken man. I thought the broken man loved me but I ask you this; how am I supposed to be just friends with someone I'm in love with? And how, if you loved me as half as much as you said you did, how could you ask such a thing of me?
***
Day five has gone, and I'm into the early hours of day six since you left. I still haven't slept more than a couple of hours. I keep replaying our conversations in my head and wondering what happened.
Six weeks ago you were talking about me moving in with you, but told me six days ago that you'd been unhappy for weeks. I don't understand. What happened? What changed?
It's been six days since I got any emotion from you.
Six days since you really spoke to me.
Six days since my world fell apart.
Six days since my heart was dropped with no one bothering to pick up the pieces. My biggest fears are the ocean and rejection and I'd much rather drown, than hear you say you don't love me. I hate loud noises and I bruise easily but I'd much rather you scream and rage at me than look right through me and not say a word.
Eight days ago was the last time you told me you loved me but six days ago you decided you didn't love me enough? At all? And you left.