Funny thing about those words.
Those words that I wrote years ago.
Those words that are still true.
Those hurts that still continue.
Those words that became lies.
The love I thought would never go away.
Blame me. Blame yourself.
It’s always the same thing over again.
It’s old. I’m tired of crying.
I cried then in my pillow night after night
When you didn’t notice.
Now I cry just sometimes.
Just when you wear me down to not mattering anymore.
I’m some shadow in your world. Some face. Some representation of your anger.
I don’t know who she is. But she is not me.
You have won.
I give in and surrender. I no longer fight. I no longer wish for what I wished for.
The fight is over and one day I will be completely free.
For now, it is enough that it is over.
And, as she said, “I am done.”