Raw

Every special moment is spent haphazardly retracing yours, that define my very being.
Your increasing disinterest, and how my affection grew, I am still wincing or crying and you would still be apathetic towards what you could put a person through. I told you those mornings that I had dreamt of you because I did not understand, you did and you do, you said you wanted me to know you like the back of my hand. Mine or yours. I may never know whose it was that rubbed me raw, well you left me, forever, thinking that you must not have liked what you saw.