You said you didn't want to make me feel that way.

You didn't want to be the knife going in, after being the frozen spoon to my swollen eyes for so long.

You said you didn't want to make me feel that way but you did make me feel that way.

You were the blade going in and there was no nurse, there was no utensil, there was no quick fix to make it feel any better.

You didn't want to make me feel that way but you did.

You left.

And you didn't check in and you didn't really care, well you did, but not in the same sense as before.

Not in the calming, reassuring, and loving way you had before.

But you're still happy that it ended.

You just wish it ended differently.

You didn't want to make me feel that way but you did and my insides ached and you have to deal with the side affects and deal with a bitter girl and a rotten tongue.

And that's what you get for redelivering the blows that you tried to heal for so long.

And maybe it was too difficult and maybe I was too difficult.

But you were the frozen spoon to my swollen eyes, whether you say it or not.

You can never take back the blows and you can never take back the slow hollow ache you caused and you can never take me back, even if you wanted to.

I hope you're sorry.