Love? How Pathetic.

Staring at this blank page,
Reflects my blank stare as I watch the days pass by,
No response,
No affection.

You’re gone now.

I try to remember,
Focus on the positive side of things,
Maybe I could be happier,
Cry less.

But no.

You’re behind bars at this moment as I write,
And what am I doing you ask?
I’m being me.
Being miserable because you chose to fuck up.
To be the person to crack my heart in half and mess up what was left of what we had.

Do we still have anything?
I love you.
Yes, I still do as pathetic as it sounds.

I hope you do.

No if you did, you wouldn’t have put me through this shit.
Now my heart aches,
My body feels weak,
I feel lost now.

And you?
I don’t even want to know,
Let alone, I don’t fucking care.

But I do,
I am riddled by this Love and Hate that’s inside me,
I feel too confused for everything I’m feeling right now.
What am I to do?
What I can begin to say?

Nothing.

That’s my answer,
Nothing.
That’s what I am and now feel for everything,
Even you.

Fucking Nothing.