Overall

As a summary of two years of illusion, 

two months of struggle, and two more of grief,

I must admit that math 

might have worked in my favour, Cutie thief:

I promised you I'd give you 

love and happiness on demand;

I promised myself I'd learn 

from any moment we would have.

It turned out that you got

good talks, good food, and weekend fun;

It turned out that I got

taste, touch, smell, sight, and sound.

But later it happened to you

that you couldn't escape your patterns

and remained snared in your ways:

hurtful, deflective, mute... avoidant when it mattered.

And later it happened to me:

I could see your traits, their pace,

and I turned myself free:

caring, loving, gorgeously brave.

You tightened then the grip around your heart

in the chain prison where you trapped it.

I made then a rent-free room for you,

in the prostitute's hotel of my heart-beats.

And while it's true that it was hard to let go 

after 18 years of panic that hurt like a knife,

not having flayed my skin to patch your wounds

was the bravest decision of my life.

You now resent me for not being unconditional

and walking away by saying the words you couldn't provide;

I now thank you deeply for having been my Bêta Test

with whom -in every phase- I learned how much I grew inside.

So, overall and in summary:

You remained yourself after me 

and I transformed myself after you

(Math indeed worked in my favour, see?).