I Don’t Know

So, this is it guys. I finally have my first piece for my year-long conversations. I have dedicated a separate category for this for ease of access. Your critiques are very much welcome. Thank you! Enjoy the chocolates!
Hers: 
I don’t really know if you’re healed… because broken things never mend entirely. But if you’re holding back tears, just know I’ve been there too. 
I don’t really know if you’re lying… because we rarely talk now.

And it’s not like I’m complaining, but yes, I’m sad. 

And maybe glad. In the many ways you try to steer things off, at least you’ve managed to go on living. 
I don’t really know, too, if you’re okay…

You’re probably not. 

But if you do think I don’t understand the pain, just remember… I held my shattered pieces whilst mending yours too.
His: 
I don’t know what to feel anymore. I’m stuck between trying to heal and silently crying my heart out. But if you ever need someone to wipe away those tears, know that my hands are always there.
I don’t know if I’m capable of saying the truth anymore. I keep lying to myself that everything would be all right – even though I know it would never be. But if the truth is what you want… then I’ll tell you that I never truly lived. Survived; perhaps. But never did I live.
I don’t really know if I am okay. There are times that I am, sure… and there are times that I am not. I no longer know which is which. 

Though if you are mending me, know that I would not be fully mended if you yourself… are broken.