I’d tell you
how I’m doing, and
what’s going on with me,
but
you no longer deserve
to know. if
I’m sad – as I so often am –
mostly unrelated
to how you
broke my heart, or rather how
I broke myself against you, it
can no longer matter
to you, because
I’ve put myself
in a place where I can no longer
confide these feelings to you.
there’s no point. it’s
going nowhere. I fail to see
why I should bare
my ruined soul
to someone who admits
to being neither willing nor able
to pick up my pieces.