Hope You Hurt (But Not For Long)

And I hope it stops before it destroys you, because I still remember how to care, even after everything.

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Love isn’t sacrifice — it’s surrender.
And you? You took my white flag
and used it to wipe your hands clean.

Seven days.
168 hours for “I need space”
to become “his name in your mouth.”
Funny how fast “us”
became “adjustment period.”

I hope someone does to you what you did to me.
Not forever.
Just long enough that when you gasp awake at 3 AM —
You finally understand the silence you gave me.

“I forgive you.”
(Lie.)
“I hope you’re happy.”
(Lie.)
“I don’t think about you anymore.”
(Lie.)

Truth?
I hope it hurts when you remember me.
Just once.
Just enough.

(And then I hope it stops —
because unlike you,
I still remember how to care.)

I’ll see you when you realize what you lost.
And I’ll be gone.