I’m glad that you left.
The notifications keep spamming me at 3 in the morning.
Your chat lies idle in the archive, sometimes tugging me to visit.
But you broke me, and broken people don’t find hope in broken places.

I’m glad that you left.
Your nicotine-laced breath haunts me on several days.
The cracks on the wall and heart are still healing from the blows.
The parking lot feels a lot safer now with your retreated angry silhouette.

I’m glad that you left.
Emotions exploited, bodies violated and personal space invaded.
Shredding away my peace the way that office shredder works.
Scarring me with deep gashes and aching voids in my soul.

I’m glad that you left.
The nights are no longer sleepless.
The walks by myself are no longer fearful.
The countless hours are no longer yours but mine.

I’m glad that you left.
I’m glad that I held my ground and respect.
I’m glad that I let go of your false pleas to save myself.
I’m glad that I closed the door on you before the house burnt down.