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Click hereYou told me you didn't love me when you left me.
You cut me off,
cut me down,
cut me out.
You told me you didn't love me when you left me,
didn't want me anymore,
never really did.
Did you forget
or just ignore
the promises that you made?
I remember
still.
You told me you didn't
love me when you walked out the door,
left me lying on the ground,
crying at your feet
begging you to stay,
to love me again, love me still.
I crawled away,
dragging my broken body
and my battered heart
to find my own way;
left twisting in on myself,
wondering:
Can I?
How?
And when I pulled myself up,
just a bit,
my head just above the rising water,
thinking maybe I could,
there you are,
pretending like you care,
like I ever mattered,
like you were not the one who broke me.
But I am stronger than that,
than that person who begged.
I am the one who will move on,
move forward,
and will mourn for you no more.
But it needs more concrete imagery and less discussion of abstracts. Fix that and it'll be good.