You spoke like someone twice your age,

A mind trapped in a wiser cage.

But tantrums came like floods of flame,

And still, you never owned the blame.

It happened in our first year’s haze,

More than once, in quiet ways.

You struck before love found its place, 

And left your mark I can’t erase.

I always felt I'd done it wrong,

Always apologising, weak and long. 

Your mood would fall, and mine would sink.  

In your storm, I'd drown and think. 

If you were hurt, the world would pay.

All joy would quickly fade away.

When you were cross, your mood would bite

And turn our sunshine into night.

You envied joy you couldn't taste, 

The success of others seemed a waste. 

You claimed you didn't measure me, 

But in your friends, it's clear to see.

You mask your hurt with cutting lines,

Put others down so you can shine.

Each insult hides the ache inside: 

A boy who never learned to cry.

You’d cut me down through those I knew,

My friends, my traits — you’d tear them too.

Each word a shot to make me small,

Until I doubted myself for it all.

I’d call it out — you’d nod, concede,

Then twist the truth to plant the seed:

That guilt was mine for feeling pain,

Gaslit, made to think that I’m insane.

You said our money meant no wall,

Yet made me feel so small, so small.

Your clever talk, your schools, your name,

But never love that felt the same.

You pride yourself on knowing thought,

But kindness can’t be over-taught.

You never grew beyond that pride. 

Just sharpened it and let it guide.

You begged me, “Tell me what you feel,”

Then flinched when faced with something real.

You called me “draining,” said I’m too much,

But only once I’d bared too much.

You thought it cool to be detached,

To ghost and flinch, no strings attached.

You’d say your name, then turn away —

I smiled for both of us each day.

You self-invited, took your place,

But never brought a kinder face.

And when I gave, you rarely saw 

While I stayed soft through every flaw.

Each week, I gave a gift, a dish,

A card, a note, a heartfelt wish.

But joy from you was rare to find: 

A storm behind a clever mind.

That birthday night, your friends gave praise,

Said, “Catering’s great!” You held their gaze.

You let them think it wasn’t me, 

And left me aching quietly.

You say no one can ever change —

But you have wounds that still estrange.

You speak of growth as if it’s false,

Yet once struck me — and called it loss.

You slut-shamed girls with quiet glee,

Mocked others just to feel set free.

You liked discomfort, liked control: 

A boy who feared his own lost soul.

And still, I find a strange relief 

Beneath the ashes of my grief.

You weren’t a man prepared to grow,

Too full of pride to ever show.

An only child with wounded pride,

Too loud to love, too small to hide.

You feared yourself more than the pain 

So passed it on again, again.

You say I’m hard to be around 

But I was the one who held the ground.

And though I bled to keep you near,

You leave me now, I am without fear.

I tried to leave; you always said ”no”,

But thank you now for letting me go.

For all the hurt, I’ve found relief: 

Freedom wrapped inside the grief.

You say you feel things deep and wide,

The only child, with so much pride.

But care is not a thing you fake,

It’s shown in every give-and-take.

This poem’s not for blame or war. 

Just the truth from me, and nothing more.

A tale of love that couldn’t last,

Of lessons carved into the past.

You’ll say I’m cruel for writing this.

But I gave love. You gave me fists.

And now I know: love must be kind —

Not cruel, not sharp, not half-designed.