31st of July, 2 years ago

-

 I thought that it would be the last poem I ever wrote for you

exactly on the 31st of July, 2 years ago

and that the end of our relationship would also mean the end of heartbreak

but it wasn't 


you made me a promise, that everything would be better than before

that it would all be okay

I don't think you quite understood the concept when you made that promise

the one where being okay takes time and effort


I still take all the blame

I'm the one who got us here, with my incessant need for being loved and valued

and with being manipulated every single time

mistaking cruelty for depression, faithfulness for devotion, indifference with anger


and when the moment of realization came, I questioned myself

were you the problem, or was I incapable of showing affection and appreciation

maybe I was cold and distant, bitter at times, too emotional or even unstable

did I question your love out of nowhere, was I making things up


I thought maybe love comes in different forms

that maybe it wasn't something that could measured with the amount of times you worried or was curious about what I was doing

or who I was with

maybe it didn't have to mean you walked me back home, had a gift, held me at night, made plans

but it did, didn't it




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