Mold

We grew inside one another like sweet-smelling mold that we probably should have cleaned up a while ago. 

You liked deleting me as much as you loved me. So you did it over and over again.

Once, I remember you said you felt "obsolete" towards me. You knew exactly how relevant your every aspect was to the way I crumbled in the mirror.

Your name still echoes through the corridors I've walked down in the dreams I don't even remember

But I will never apologize for the arm you may have broken.