It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

You said not to worry, that he’s just a flirt.

I read your note alone in our bed:

“I’m sorry you believed the things I had said.”

You said it was you, that I wouldn’t understand.

That it never mattered when I held your hand.

You said you never felt the sparks when we’d kiss.

That love, for you, had never been this.

You said it was over, that it was all a mistake.

Your words crashed around and made my heart ache.

How could you say that, as if you never cared?

Like our flame never sparked. Like it never had flared.

Now I can’t go out with the friends we knew,

Afraid they’ll ask why I’m not with you.

You were never a game, or a conquest to win.

You were the place my love would begin.

Sleeping feels different when you do it alone.

I live in this house; it’s no longer a home.

Your hair on the brush, your towel on the hook.

Traces of you linger wherever I look.

You left in a hurry before I came back.

You didn’t see me, emotionally crack.

The dog still wonders when you’ll come back home.

I guess he doesn’t get it. The point of this poem.

Without you, my dreams have all turned to black.

I wish you’d return to give my heart back.

But you’ve moved on, and I guess I should too.

I’m learning, slowly, how to live without you.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

Sometimes I wonder, do you sleep in his shirt?