i wanted you to argue, to fight back. i wanted to hear you say you tried, that you tried to fight for us, that you were still trying. i wanted you to tell me you loved me, and that you had hopes we'd meet again in another life. i wanted to think you believed we were made for each other, and that the spaces left between our fingers when we held hands were meaningless, because true love doesn't mean our hands had to blend perfectly. i wanted you to try. i wanted you to prove me and everyone else wrong, to show that you were so much more. i wanted you to surprise me and try instead of giving up. i wanted you to say you'd miss me, that you loved me fondly and that it tore your insides apart having to leave me. i wanted you to tell me you still saw galaxies in my eyes, and that my every move still seemed like magic to you. i wanted you to tell me everything you never told me and make me feel the way someone like you never could have— but i only wanted you to tell me because i knew it wasn't true, and i wanted you to hurt. i wanted you to hurt because of how you treated me.
i didn't want you to say it because i loved you— i wanted you to say it because it would've meant hurting me hurt you.