To The Bastard Who Isn't Even Sorry

So, i heard your name yet again, today.
Yep.
Still got that sour taste and rotten smell that lingers well after you're gone.
Oh, fuck you.
Wait.
That's all you ever wanted.
I’m suppose to forgive you.
And when people ask I say that I have.
And that you're just the past.
But when his arms come around me and I can't see his face
I want to run
Cry
Squirm myself out of reach
Cause God knows where those hand could be going.
But i have to refrain.
Tell myself it's not you.
That's it's him.
And he only wants to hold me.
That he only wants to love me.
But not the way you “loved” me
Not the love me, touch me, ruin me kind of way.
Not the degrade me, and pull me down like you would my pants.
No.
But even now.
Knowing that could never happen with him,
The way it did with you.
It still flashes
It'll echo
For days
Weeks even
In my head until I can't breathe
I can't see straight because all I want is to see it bleed down the drain.
I want to watch my hurt flow through water.
Inflict pain on myself because maybe,
It will numb the pain in mind
My chest
My whole body.
Because maybe after i'll be able to breathe a whole breath
And Maybe then I can be able to move
Rather than frozen
Like I was just laying there.
But you didn't care
You had your way
You got your happy.
Cause all I wanted was for you to be happy.
But in doing that
I've lost all chances at mine.
I told you “I love you”
So much that i have forgotten the meaning
And can no longer say it without questioning the words in my mouth.
But here I am.
Still trying to forgive you.
The bastard who isn't even sorry.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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