Unhealing

Some call it anger
some call it heartache
I call it a little bit of everything, with a layer of anger to bury the rest.
My eyes are clouded with anger
I'm that much aware.
But can you really blame me?
Is this really fair?
Just yesterday that was me
tucked in your warm embrace;
heart to heart, face to face.
Like a flip switched, you tore your heart from mine, turning your back on me.
Is the really an explanation?
A reason to leave me to weep?
Was it your mistake or mine?
Was it a lie that left you feeling fine
or a wound left weeping, unhealing
until it's given proper care, something fair
the proper answer it needs.
Kinda like me.