Let me elaborate. You were the one who stamped a big fat bloody 'it's over' stamp on things, and left. Because, in your book, I wasn't conversing enough with you, and I kept telling you that whatever was on my mind were things that I could not, or didn't want to, talk to you about.
Then, I didn't hear a thing from you, little miss skip off across the bleeding pond.
That, there, is cold. It was fucking frosty. It was ARCTIC.
So it's better if you hate me and I told you, I don't want your apologies. Honestly, I don't know why you had the gall to bother popping up or saying anything at all.
Keep me off your lips in public and your fingertips on the internet, and that's well enough. It was so convenient for you to forget I existed before, so pretend that you're doing it now. Go on then, go enjoy your little love fest with someone and live happily bloody ever after.