Am I so invisible, so easy to forget,
A name in your inbox, a favor to collect?
It’s always my hand that starts the thread,
While silence grows where your words have fled.
I ask about your day, your trials, your pain,
Yet my care falls like whispers in the rain.
Sweet, they call me, when I give and give,
Rude, when I set boundaries to simply live.
You wait for me to care, to ask, to start,
While I carry the weight of a weary heart.
Ignored, unseen, unfriended, left cold,
My warmth turns to stone, my heart grows bold.
Why must the effort always be mine,
While you let me fade, like an unwritten line?
A friendship, a bond, should flow both ways,
Not one-sided steps through endless days.
So I’ll stop this game, I’ll draw the line,
No longer a tool for when you’re in decline.
You’ve taught me to guard what’s left of me,
To let go of bonds that aren’t meant to be.
Cold-hearted, you say—perhaps it’s true,
But it’s what remains when I’m done with you.