Cold Voice of Anger

My fist clenches,
and I realize I'm in the stage of anger
and quite honestly,
I'm so used to it being a primary
rather than a secondary.
You lied when you said you would always be there,
because I look to my side
and all I see are the track marks you left behind
when you went running.
You want truthful and honest?
I'll show you truthful and honest.
I'm doing the best that I can with what you've given me.
And these days, it's nothing but heartache.
Quit reading my writing
and dissecting my words for the deeper meaning.
You proved you wanted nothing to do
with those things the night you called me.
Three days were annoying.
Weeks were a nightmare.
And months continue to be unbearable.

It wasn't my fault for everything,
it's not a matter of going through it
over and over again in my head,
yet why do I feel like I'm to blame?
You can't control my thoughts or actions anymore.
What happens, happens.
If I choose to end it all
that would be my decision and no longer yours.
A piece of my heart you held,
angry that I didn't give it all,
your laugh sounds like the devil
as you crush it between your hands.

Your voice
calm and cold,
like the winter's chill,
it burns through me and makes my chest grow tight.
I missed that calming voice,
but the sharpness in your tone was unfamiliar.
It hurt like hell.
The pain I felt could never relive.
Stop trying to plan everything out.
Quit looking for something that just happens.
Going on a whim won't help you now.
I began to love you in my own way.
But now you want nothing more than break away.