To the Boy

don't tell me you love me
don't say you miss me
i am not a thing to be loved
i am not a person to be missed

to say you love me is to love
a broken bottle, shattered glass
and people wonder 'how?'
i am made only of sharp edges

to say you miss me is to miss
a thing you never truly had
i cannot be held by hands nor
contained within your words

do not pretend you can love
such a fragile broken thing
or miss the way i hurt you
and tear apart your wings