Through with you

I'm tired of the scent of urine and the way you look right past me.

I feel lied to and unwanted and alone.

I hate that belly and the way you don't give a shit.

I love you, but I'm not in love with you, and it seems the feeling's mutual.

You will not see this because you stopped reading things I write two years ago. You stopped trying two years ago and I've felt it ever since.