Ashes of Us

Who the fuck do you think you are?
I heard myself saying, a guttural growl,

words dripping with the acid of betrayal.

Each step toward my destruction echoes—

hollow, relentless, final.

You stand there, a monument to indifference,

cold heart beating with calculated apathy,

your hands clutching the fragments of my soul.

You’ve stolen my essence,

the fire that once burned through my veins,

leaving only smoke and ash in your wake.

What happened to me?

When did I become this shadow of myself?

Too blind to see the red flags waving,

too slow to react to the warning signs—

each missed moment carving a deeper wound.

This is the end, isn’t it?

The end result of a love so poorly sewn,

its threads unraveling into nothingness.

I gave you my everything—

my time, my trust, my dreams—

and you turned it to dust,

letting it scatter with the wind

as if it never mattered at all.

Now I stand in the wreckage,

my own voice haunting me,

asking questions with no answers.

Who the fuck did I become,

believing in the illusion of us?

What do I have left but this bitter clarity—

that loving you was the slow death of me?