You are insignificant.

A tiny speck of dust or grime.

You don’t talk to me.

You never talk to me.

And yet you say you love me.

You are so small,

so weak and tiny.

So why do I care?

Why do I care if

you kill yourself.

You’re a speck of dust,

one I couldn’t bring myself

to get rid of.

I breathed you in

and you went into my heart

and never left.

I’m not sure I

want you to.