What’s left?

My tear soaked pillow mourns the absence of drought
The piles of tissues in the corner regret their existence
My heart begs to beat again and feel the warm embrace
The confusion sets in with unbearable force
If only I were perfect would you like me? Would you come back?
Would you realize that your words sting like sandpaper?
Or when I cry it feels like acid
If only you understood what really happened
If you could only listen
Hear my frail cries
If I were different
Would you notice?
Or would it matter to you if I wasn’t there at all.
I don’t want to feel this way anymore
But the war keeps going on