You don’t get to greet me.

You don’t get to smile at me.

You don’t get to talk to my friends about me,

like maybe you made me happy.

I’d starve for your attention,

I’d beg to be in your company,

the only time you gave me your attention

was when you were bored and it was somewhat ‘entertaining’

to be with me.

You don’t get to say you miss me.

What is it that you miss?

The non-existent love we shared?

The dry conversations?

The constant ‘hi’, ‘hud’, ‘wud’

you’d text me just to make conversation,

and try cover our lack of communication?

You don’t get to say you love me now and forever,

when you never told me in in the Spring of 22.

I felt stupid for loving you.

For the longest time I thought I was the problem,

but now that I’m older I realise,

it wasn’t me,

it was you.

You don’t get to cry about the ‘painful break up’,

when I sent you that text you didn’t flinch.

You didn’t fight for me,

you didn’t fight for us.

I’ve been grieving us since November till recently,

yet you were loved up with a girl by February.

Sometimes I wonder if you ever, truly,

loved me?

I don’t regret loving you.

I do regret hoping it would get better.

To whom it may concern,

I never want to see you again!