I hope you bathe in misery
whenever you think of me.
I hope that you suffer
because life is tougher.
I hope you hate me
and regret you dated me.
I hope the words you said
run laps through your head
when you’re trying to sleep
and your pain is most deep.

I hope you lie awake and cry
and ask yourself why
but I know that you don’t
because you can’t, you won’t
ever realize that I’m not the one
who stole away the sun
and left you in that dark night
alone, not even stars for light.

Sure, you can always blame me
and try to shame me
like I’m the one who hurt you.
Doesn’t matter if it’s true.
You poisoned my mind
and didn’t think I’d find
an immediate antidote.
So when you went and wrote
how my world should revolve
around you, I had evolved.

You thought it was profane
I couldn’t care about your pain
but did you care about mine
even once in six years’ time?
Pain that you intentionally inflicted
because we were addicted?

No, no, I am not the one
who stole away the sun
and left you in that dark night
without even stars for light.
You created the dark alone
and you made it into your home.

You banished any and all stars
so you wouldn’t see your scars
and then you made me into the moon
told me I banished all the gloom
but you architected your own doom.

No love exists in that dark; there isn’t room.
You’re forever buried in misery’s womb –
a perfectly constructed personal tomb.

©️ J.A. Steckling, 2023

Mental health poetry collection coming this November.