Quit asking

I used to ask
"why'd you do this to me?"
"why'd you take her away?"
then one day
in the broken reflection
of the bathroom mirror
I saw you, who was me
But not really
still clung
as you boiled to the surface
melting away in my tears
her skin crawled
deeming us cold and calculating
to be true
when not in deception all along
to have you say, you were not
giving back coldness and silence
that which was not true
nor intentionally present
to miss those hands entwined
warmth of bodies
breathing in sync
at different rates
who is you but me
and where is she but not here?