Literature · poetry

The Pain

Do you like her, the way you liked me?
Does she fill your bed, like I did?
Is she worth it, like the way I was?
Will she be your friend, the way I were?

I loved you, you didn’t.
I cried, when you were hurt.
I prayed, when you suffered.
I held you, when you were weak.

You listened to others not to me.
You believed in their lies, not my truth.
You understood me the way they wanted you to;
You threw me away like I was a filthy rat.

You were my first kiss.
She was yours.
You were my first love.
She was yours.

You wouldn’t stand up for me.
You wouldn’t be there for me.
You didn’t know how.
Or was it because you didn’t want me?

I never cried the way when you left me.
I never became cold, like the way you made me.
I had never known what it was like to have my heart broken.
I never really knew you.

I know what we had, was never real.
If it were, you would’ve been here with me right now.
If I ever meant something to you.
It was only to fill a void, she left in you.

I hope you still in your heart remember me.
I hope there is someone who may love me again.
I hope I find happiness in sands of time.
I know that hoping is a utopian concept.

I now know the pain of being in love.
I know the pain of a broken-hearted.
I know the pain of being a withered rose.
I know the pain of loving you.

The pain is like a shard of glass biting your skin.
The pain is a raven clawing your eyes out.
The pain is like your soul being ripped apart.
The pain is when you burn to ash.

Was I really a conquest?
Was I an accessory?
Was I, a Love at all?
Were you ever in love with me?

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