I Forgot How To Breathe

My skin misses your touch. I keep thinking about how you told me you would always love me and never give up, so why did you? Why did you just give up and throw me away like a piece of garbage, then pick me back up like a toy when you got bored? Why did you tell me what I needed to hear so I would be blind to what you were doing: toiling with my glass heart. I became so dependent on you. You were the one that got me through the miscarriage, the depression; you're the one that got me through life. I kept planning out our life, just like we said it would be. You told me you cared, you told me you would never give up, you told me that you I was the one, but the biggest lie you ever told me was when you said you loved me.