you tell me

that i hurt you

and i tell you

that i know.

i know i had

a part in this.

we weren't

a one-way street.

but i also know that

i am sitting here,

writing this poem,

and dozens of others,

and you are not even

thinking about me.

i know that

i am sitting here,

barely stitched back together,

and you have hardly given

the scars you left a second thought.

i know that

i am sitting here,

still hurting,

and you are doing

just

fine.

-c.h.