Late

I may be in possession
of something that is half yours
and you have changed your mind.
Your feelings for me have gone
out the window like so must dust in the wind
You are not the man I thought you were
and I am broken in two
crushed by the weight of your indifference
there is no greater pain than this
abandonment in a most offensive manner
I am not well
you tell me
I am all kinds of things
But it is you, you say, not me.

You do not know me, yet
you peer into my soul
and find all the cracks you cannot live with
and spell each one out as if I were not already aware.
You are the cruelest of men
and I a fool for trusting your pretty words.
I did not pretend when I met you
to be something I was not
I do not pretend still
And it makes no difference.

You have abused the most sacred of places
found all my deepest wounds
and poured salt into them
and I will never forgive you for it
In time I may learn to forgive myself
and in that I will find solace.