Where’s my happiness?
Do I not deserve even a piece of it?
Or was it always yours to keep
and mine to lose?
You broke me slowly.
Not enough to notice at first,
just quiet fractures
spreading beneath the surface
until I couldn’t hold myself together anymore.
And then the final blow,
so clean, so effortless,
like you had already practiced
leaving me behind.
You moved on
before I even understood
what we were losing.
I was still standing in the wreckage
while you were already
building something new.
You reach out
when it suits you,
small echoes of what we were.
Yet when I need you,
when I’m drowning in the silence you left,
you don’t even turn your head.
You say,
“I hope you find someone
who you can look at
the way you look at me.”
But how can I?
When you were the reason
I learned how to look at someone like that
in the first place.
You say,
“I hope you find peace.”
But you were my peace.
The quiet in my chaos,
the breath in my lungs
when everything else felt suffocating.
Now I’m left here
trying to breathe without you,
trying to exist
in a world that feels
just a little more empty
than it used to.
Because I still yearn for you
in ways I don’t know how to undo,
and you?
You don’t care anymore.
I was something you needed
until I wasn’t.
Something you held
until it became too easy
to let go.
And now I’m just
what’s left over.
Used, worn thin,
and discarded
like I never carried
your happiness too.