Empty

There are so many things I would tell you. So many things I would say. But you took my voice away. You made me scared to talk; scared that it would make you leave; scared that if I wanted “too much” you would leave me behind. But I don’t want too much. I never did. I just want you.

I want the talks we used to have. I miss the love we used to share. I don’t want to be your friend, your booty call, your this. I don’t know if I want this. I tell myself I do, because the alternative, of not having you all seems so much harder. Do you love me? Do you still care? How many of the words that slip off your sweet tongue are just used to get in my bed? What goes through your mind when you see our old photos? How do they make you feel? They make me feel sad. I miss the people in those photos. I miss those smiles. I miss the man I fell in love with.

You look like him; the man in our photos. But inside you’re gone. You’re the shell of a man I once loved. And I hold onto you because you remind me of him, and sometimes when we’re alone, you even act like him. You say things he used to say. And it makes me feel like that girl again. The girl in the photo. The one who got lost the day you gave up and walked away. The one that I’m still trying to find.

There are a lot of things I would say to you if we could talk freely. If I wasn’t scared. I’m not really sure what I’m scared of: you walking away, or hearing what you might have to say. I’ve given you everything. Everything I have and more. And you’ve given me nothing, and yet here I stand loving you. The man you once were gave me the world; he gave me his all. But you’re just his shell. Empty. With nothing to give. I know you’re lost. And I know you’re not ready. But what a thing to learn now. What a thing to discover after tasting all you have to offer.

I know you miss me. I can hear it in your voice. In the way you say my name. But you’re a shell. And slowly, I feel you making me more like you. More… empty.
We sit next to each other, as shells of who we use to be. And our relationship, a shell of what it once was. Empty.

Fight For You

I told you I would fight for you.
I told you I would never give up.
I told you I would fight for you,
Until you gave me a reason not to.
And even then, I would still fight.

You pushed me away.
You broke me.
You wrecked me.
You torn me down.
But still, I fought.

But today, I stopped.
I stopped fighting for you.
Not because you gave me a reason not to.
You had given me a million before.
I stopped fighting for you.
Because you weren’t there anymore.

When You’re The One Who Cares The Most

When you’re the one who cares the most, you often feel lost. You feel confused, and you feel hurt. When you’re the one who cares the most, you can’t understand why the other person doesn’t care about you, or why they don’t show it, or how they don’t see that what they’re doing is hurting you. You keep giving. You give and you give until you have absolutely nothing left, and then you give some more. This is because they take. They take and they suck you dry. They know it’s killing you; they watch it break you, and they don’t care. You put them first; they put themselves first; and so they win, and you’re left empty, broken, with nothing left to give.

When you’re the one who cares the most, you cry yourself to sleep at night. You prioritise people who don’t think about you. You value everyone else’s feelings over your own. You care. You keep caring even when they give you reasons not to. You forgive. You keep forgiving. They take advantage of your forgiveness. They take advantage of your love. They take advantage of you, of your kindness. You see this but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Not when you’re the one who cares the most.

When you’re the one who cares the most, you will die of heartbreak. You will die of disappointment. Loving others is what is going to kill you. They mean the world to you, but your tears mean nothing to them. You spend your life saving them, but when you tell them you’re dying, they watch you go. They don’t fight for you, and it breaks your heart.

When you’re the one who cares the most, you want to beg them to care about you, but you don’t. You want to ask why they don’t love you, but you can’t. You sit on your floor and cry so that the next time you see them you can smile. Your heart keeps breaking into smaller and smaller pieces. These pieces get lost throughout your life so that even when you want to repair your heart, you can’t. There are holes. Holes that they made when they tore through you.

When you’re the one who cares the most, you walk around wounded. Scars from your past mark your body. The pain you’ve experienced runs through your veins and paints your face. You smile and laugh because you know it’s what they want to see, and you want to make them happy. That’s all you want. But no one cares about your happiness. No one cares to know that you’re okay; no one cares about the tears; no one cares. He doesn’t care.

When you’re the one who cares the most, you do small things to make his day brighter and better. You get him presents and surprises when he’s down. You take care of him when he’s sick. You give him everything, and he takes it all, and he gives you nothing back. He’ll take all of you. He’ll destroy you. He’ll say it’s because he loves you. But it’s not love, because you don’t destroy the people you love.

When you’re the one who cares the most, you’ll disappear. You’ll fade. You’ll vanish. And maybe one day they’ll search for you, but you’ll have nothing left to give, and no love left in your heart.