I told you I loved you, and you asked me to leave

I can’t describe this as anything other than heartbreak. An unrequited love from one to another. She who loved so dearly, but that love fell into uncaring hands.

Rough, textured hands. Uncaring hands.

I wanted to believe in you. I swept aside all my anxieties. Not being good enough. You finding someone better. You knowing I didn’t belong. Figuring me out.

An alien amongst humans.

I was myself with you. Let my guard down, and thought I’d found a place to lay my head. A bed to stay the night.

Someone had finally taken me in.

I forgot myself with you. Showed my rough edges and felt comradery in imperfection.

I told all my friends and family about you. Told your stories around the dinner table and funny anecdotes at parties.

Now, I’m in attendance to your dinner party. Only not a guest.

I lay on a silver platter in the middle of the table. Apple in my mouth, and chest split clean down the middle.

You neatly tuck in your napkin before grabbing at my ribcage, cracking off a few, then dipping them into barbeque sauce.

I left my toxic ex for you, and you left me feeling more helpless than the first.

The worst part is, I miss you. I want to see you again, explain myself. Stay in touch with your friends and stay in your life.

But they all say it’s best to move on. To forget about you. That you didn’t deserve me.

But the truth is, I didn’t deserve you. You were right.

I still want to be good enough for you.

I try to sleep, but the slice through my chest grows with each breath. Like air slipping into a fractured straw.

I told you I loved you, and you asked me to leave.

Ten