It's not that I don't love you

It’s not that I don't love you,

it’s the sound of the door when you slammed the front door so hard behind you. I swear to god it shook the whole house.

It’s not that I don’t love you,

it’s that I think I stopped breathing when you left.

I think a part of me died.

I think you took my heart when you walked out.

my chest is empty now, just a shattered mess or a cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you,

it’s all the blood in the sink.

it’s the nights I spent in the emergency room waiting to see if you were going to be okay.

it’s the fluorescent lights and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths, and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you,

it’s the time I had to stay up two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her girlfriend fucked her ex.

I swear to god she stills tear streaks stained onto her cheeks.

It’s not that I don’t love you,

it’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English.

because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out off bed. When she came back she was smiling.

but her hand shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside.

and sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them.

nothing goes back to the way it was.

It’s not that I don’t love you,

It’s that I think when you love someone it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you,

It’s that I do.