You told me you loved me.
You held my hand.
You kissed me softly,
told me we were forever and always.
You stopped answering your calls.
You started avoiding me in the halls.
I saw your desire to be close to me extinguish.
You looked at that other girl,
laughed at the idea that you liked her when I asked you.
You told me we needed space,
brushed me off when I asked why.

I cried.
I felt my heart rip out of my chest.
I saw it shatter on the floor.
I yelled at your picture still taped to my mirror,
but you kept smiling, not saying a word.
I tore down all the pictures,
laughed as the dancing, hungry flames
licked them until they turned charcoal black.
I kicked my furniture, split open my pillows.
I saw the fluff fall to the ground,
realizing that my love for you went with it.

You flirted with the girl.
You held her close,
kissed her head,
wrapped your arm around her waist,
whispered something in her ear,
laughed like a sick fool.
You ignored me when I passed by.

I wished that an anvil fell on your head.
I took the wish away as I registered my lack of emotion.
I didn’t care anymore.
I stopped in front of you,
laughed at your scared face.
I told you I didn’t love you anymore
and walked away.