You said you liked me. That I was important. That you cared too.
I never felt it, though. Because you never showed it.
Or maybe you did—I mean, you used to . . . but not anymore.
I wish you never said anything if it was never true.
You said you weren't rejecting me—but now that I think about it, you never accepted me either.
Why don't you just reject me and get it over with? What were you planning to do? Hold me on standby until you were "ready"? Until the "right time" comes? Leave me hanging in this giant cloud of "what ifs" and "maybes"?
That is the most hurtful thing anyone could possibly do.
It must feel nice when you're important to someone. It must be great to be chased after. It must be fun to disregard the people who did nothing but love and take care of you.
You are the most confusing thing I have ever met, and I absolutely hate the things I can't understand.
You need to make up your mind, babe. I have no time for this bullshit.
And this is why I'm giving up on you.
YOU ARE READING
I Give Up
PoetryThis is the story of how you hurt me. It starts with you, and that girl who broke your heart. When she left, off you went-walking around, trying to figure things out. It starts with me, and that boy who broke mine. When he left, I lost all my color...
