With every breath I take in, the loss hurts worse. There once was a spot in your bed for me, a pillow and blanket that were just mine in your room. Once upon a time, that was my room also. I have no right to feel this way, but did you know you destroyed what little light I had left in me? That every night you called me a bitch or took your jokes too far, it dampened the hope I had left for myself? The nights I had to practically beg for you to talk to me, they ruined the thought that I had been toying with while we were together, crushing any chance I had of finally feeling good enough. Now, you have no time for me. Now, you do not care at all. I wonder sometimes, which I'd prefer. The feeling of constantly being pushed aside and unprioritized, though masked... or the cold, callous man before me that makes me question whether I was ever cared for at all. It is nights like these that I contemplate far too many things. Nights like these where I must remain very, very still in the exact spot I am in. Did you ever love me at all?
- A letter to someone I thought was my forever.
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YOU ARE READING
Unsent Letters
PoetryThese letters have sat in my notes and journals for far too long. They have never been sent to the person I wrote them for. I am doing this so that they are out there in the world. Who knows, maybe some of them will even reach their intended recipie...