I trusted you with my heart a second time. Even after what you did. Then you did it again.

You lied. You cheated. You tried to make it my failure.
Then you left.
Then you proved all my concerns right. Again.

Then you set about attacking and insulting me to our friends so you didn’t have to take responsibility.

Then I had a heart attack.

I can’t tell you, because I don’t want you to know how much you destroyed me. Because I know you just never cared. I was just convenient, your best option for now.

I know you’ll realise you made a mistake. Maybe you already have. I’m afraid that when you do, you’ll get in touch and I’ll crumble again. I know you’d destroy me without a second thought in exactly the same way a third time, just as soon as I wasn’t convenient again. But I know you have it in you to convince me you won’t.

But next time you lie, next time you go behind my back to make a mistake I warn you about, next time you walk away and show I’m nothing to you, maybe it’ll kill me. Maybe my heart won’t survive being broken a third time.

You have, quite literally left a scar on my heart that I will carry for the rest of my life. Each missed beat, each squeeze in my chest, each pain in my arm and I’ll remember you. When one day another heart attack does finish me, I’ll remember how this one happened. I’ll remember how much I loved you and how little you cared about me.

All I want is the you I loved. But you’re not her. You never were.
But I can’t tell you, because I can’t ever let you know what you did.