kind of a part ii. the 2nd and final poem i wrote for/about her, two years ago.

You know what? I counted on you, I love you, I need you, you were the light of my world. But you grew to be a manipulative bitch. You could be the damn finest woman on this earth and I don't know if I hate you for something you can't help or choose not to. It's your so called "strength", your predjudice against weakness, your blank intolerance. You, dearest Elizabeth, will never be a first class woman OR a first class human being until you can learn to have some regard for anyone other than yourself.
I broke up with you for two major events. One: I tried to kill myself and when I told you you ignored it and wanted me to focus on you. Two: At first, you refused to accept that I thought I was genderfluid, You refused to use my pronouns they and them. You refused to accept who I was. You came around but I don't think you ever really wanted to. That's why I broke up with you.
But you can't handle being dumped, now, can you? So you told someone I abused you. You told more people. Everyone believed you. And then suddenly you believed it yourself. You convinced yourself I abused you just for what, attention? Sympathy? Some dying shred of hope that I'd want you back? I didn't abuse you, emotional or otherwise. I didn't rape you. I didn't do anything wrong that I didn't apologise profusely for afterwords. So I'd appreciate it if you stopped telling people I did.
You've ruined me. I've lost friends because of the lies you've spread abut me. I've lost faith in myself and you're to blame.
With love.