What Does it Matter Now?

My heart is not an inanimate object.

It is not something to be tossed around.

You treat me like some sort of reject,

After you made me believe you would stick around.

I thought we could conquer anything.

Any argument, any issue or disagreement.

But your unexpected, harsh words sting,

And they've surrounded me like cement.

I feel stuck but impelled to run.

I feel words that want to spill out but I bite my tongue.

I feel pain but I'm also so very numb.

I put the pen between my finger and thumb.

And I write about the pieces of you, down to every last crumb,

To try to determine where love was lost and hate was found.

But what does it matter now that you're not around?