I let myself talk to you.
I let myself like you.
I let myself hug you.
I let myself crave you.
I let myself feel for you.
I let myself love you.
Then you said it's over. And I was ok. I didn't cry, I didn't care.
A few months later you said you missed me.
You said you were stupid for letting me go.
You said you still loved me.
I let myself fall for you all over again and fall into an even deeper state of love.
But I soon found out that you didn't care. I was an object. Something- not someone- to hold and touch. I didn't matter as much as you claimed I did.
So I said I missed you, but I'm sick of being an object. I loved you but I was done trying.
Oh how I regret those words!
You moved on and are happy with her.
I still love you but every touch kills my heart.
You've made me cry so much more than anyone should in a lifetime. You meant a lot to me. You were everything to me. You got me through good or bad. In my darkest times, you were there.
You used to care about me, but not anymore.
