Mean

You don't get to do this anymore. Ask me how I am and then snap at me because you are tired or you have some other drama playing in your head that has nothing to do with me.

I don't care, really. I don't care about anything to do with you that has nothing to do with me and us. Actually, I don't care if it doesn't concern me.

You fucked up your own life and mine. You know that in your head. Yet your heart still doesn't get it. Because if it did, it would walk away in shame and not dare do anything else to me that is bad.

Yet, I am still the recipient of your meanness. I am at once your punching bag and your security blanket.

Well fuck you.

You destroy whatever tenderness I feel towards you with so little words.

I deserve the best part of you. And all I have been getting these last few years is the worst.

You don't deserve me.