kiss my cuts ❥ poetry

dear past lover.

today i came to a conclusion,
that we weren't meant to be.
and it was neither mine or your fault,
we weren't made for each other.
i realized that fact when i was stumbling over the little things that fell under the question
"what was his favourite colour?"
the next question may have been
"what was his favourite drink?"
but that's not for us to get into.
the reason that i've gotten a closure of our past was
the fact that; you didn't know me.
and that's your loss for not getting to know me.
you didn't know the reason behind my favourite colour being green
was because it was the first thing i saw as i woke every morning,
alone as a child.
and you didn't know that i only liked starbucks for their frappucinos,
and not their 'macchiatos',
but that didn't stop you from teasing me,
calling me a
"typical white girl".
you didn't know the reason i only parted my hair on the right rather than the left
was because i had a horrible cow lick on the left side of my head that i hated to see
you also didn't know that i was very insecure about my body,
especially my fingers.
you weren't aware of how many bad things i can point about my face alone.
you questioned why i cracked my knuckles so much,
but i didn't tell you it was because i'm usually nervous or anxious,
i don't even realize i'm doing it.
you didn't know that every time i was in a crowded area or presenting in class
i scratched myself until it was over,
dreading the fact i left my house that morning.
you didn't know when you asked me out,
all the stages of me you would have to suffer.
you didn't know how to deal with my disorders.
but i don't blame our ending all on you,
as i didn't know you either.
but when you told me that you loved me,
what was it that you loved?
it couldn't have been the way i smiled at nearly anything,
because you don't know what happened behind closed doors;
which you never once questioned me about.
but why did you tell me you loved me?
because it was a genuine thing to say?
there was nothing said after,
so the question that will stay lingering is;
what is there to love?
in a broken girl like me,
who barely had the motivation to get up and shower in the morning.
but at the time i thought that the reason i stood up was only for you,
but you didn't know me.
you never questioned what pained me,
only how was i.
but why would i say i'm sad to somebody who didn't know me?
you'd give me advice,
but it wouldn't be the things i needed to hear, because once again im stating,
you did not know me.
and when we were together,
you didn't get to know me.
you thought i was fine and happy,
you assumed i was that way because that's what you were.
you were fine and happy.
something i haven't genuinely felt with you.
i felt as if i was forced to dress up or do my makeup for you.
i soon realized you weren't good for me when i found out my depression always ended up replacing your hugs.
but dear past lover,
i don't say 'i love you' for show.
i barely say it to my own father.
i thought i loved you though,
but it was a beautiful confusion.
but did you know?
did you even know that i was loving you when i couldn't love myself?

-the a team