I found a letter of yours today.
Simple. Poetic.
In it were lonely words,
Hidden behind lust-drenched actions.
And I ask that it speak no more to me,
I cannot take what you said, only for you to not mean it.
It haunts me because it was I who loved,
And you, who used.
I cannot believe I let you break me.
But, now, it has no control over me.
That was the last article of, "us," that I had.
And now it's gone.
As are you.
Goodbye.
