You said you don’t lie

Dear You,

I never planned to write this,
but some words just don’t stay buried.
They sit heavy on my chest,
waiting for a moment to be heard —
even if it’s only in silence.

You said you don’t lie.
But you made me all those promises…
and broke every single one.
You said you’d never let me go to bed upset,
but you did — more times than I can count.
You said you wouldn’t leave me alone,
but I found myself reaching out to emptiness.
You said you’d never abandon me,
yet I was left picking up pieces of a “we”
that turned into “me.”

You said you'd understand my anger,
you said you'd help me through it —
but instead, you let your own anger speak louder.
You let your ego win.
You walked away when I needed you to stay.
You turned your back when I was still facing you.

You said you don’t lie.
But you did — in every word that felt safe,
in every promise that felt like home.
And maybe the biggest lie was
when I believed you.

I never sent this.
And maybe you’ll never read it.
But I needed to let it out,
so I could let you go.

— Me