Did you know?

A flash of light

Paints the ceiling of my room,

Highlighting the objects messily strewn about the place

Throwing shadows against my wall.

At the same time,

A faint buzz cuts through the low hum of the fan on my dresser.

The low-frequency, almost rhythmic noise

Calls me back to a state of semi-consciousness.

These murky shapes,

And short vibrations

Provide my heavy eyes,

And foggy mind

With more intrigue

Than the indolent words that,

Upon further investigation,

I learn to be the source of disturbance

In my quiet residence

Your short, careless phrases

Hollow words

Don’t dignify the use of a word like ‘response’

Each little light,

Each bzzt

Cold, calculated.

And yet, completely devoid of interest,

Barely justifying the use of the data it took to send them.

You don’t even try to hide how little you care.

It shines through in your texts,

Brighter than the light emanating from the five and a half inch screen

Now sitting idle on my nightstand.

Goodnight.

I love you.

The meaning of this phrase,

I took it for granted.

And now you stand before me, resolute.

Meeting my warmth, my smile,

My open arms

You meet them with a silent coldness,

And you turn away.

Do you know

How much that hurts?

Did you know

That the first time

A piece of me

Filled with hope, happiness, and love

Did you know

That the first time you didn’t say it back,

That you simply responded ‘goodnight.’

Did you know

At that moment,

A piece of me broke?

Maybe you don’t care.

I hope you do.

I hope you still care,

At least somewhat.

I don’t like to think pessimistically.

But maybe,

Maybe you really don’t care?

Now that I realize

How unimportant I am to you

Now that I see

How easy it is for you to brush me off,

I think it’s possible

That you really don’t care

How much it hurts me.

Did you know

That first time,

That I layed in bed,

Feeling empty inside,

Part of me missing,

A fraction of the person I’d been,

Just seconds ago?

Did you know

That first time,

I layed there,

Hating myself.

For something I thought I’d done.

Hating, with a burning passion,

Every pound, every bone, every blemish,

Every imperfection I had.

Did you know that?

I know you have a lot on your plate, babe.

I know you’ve been busy,

That you’ve been taking your time.

I know that, love,

I really do.

But you can’t drop me off the deep end like this,

Just because I no longer interest you.

That’s it, isn’t it?

I no longer interest you.

I’ve served my purpose,

And now you can dispose of me,

Discard me,

And to hell with my heart?

Do you know how cruel that is?

How are you so okay?

With it,

With yourself?

I’m not angry with you,

Just hurt.

I don’t want you to hurt like I am.

Because the truth is,

Even if you don’t say it anymore,

Even if the feeling you once so deeply described to me

Has left you entirely,

Even if…

You don’t love me anymore,

I still love you.

And I don’t want you to be hurt.

But if you read this,

And you know who you are,

Then this poem has served its purpose.

No, I don’t want you to hurt,

I want you to know how it feels.

Yours truly,

Jamais Vu