I wish I could say it doesn’t hurt anymore. But when you all hover in the kitchen, I can’t help but wonder if my name isn’t falling off your lips yet again. A break up would be easy if we didn’t share the same blood.
I am forced to pretend the smiles and laughter come from a place of happiness when they really are covering what scars I don’t want to break open again. If I act like all is well, you won’t question my motives, won’t whisper behind my back.
We’ll see if the veil can be sustained for this sentence. The year it all turned black with you. You call yourself the light, yet spew venom with your words hidden behind kind phrases that promise love yet wrap them comfortably in judgements.
Were the days of me sharing my heart with you a mirage? A place that never existed. My thirst was quenched only because I thought it was an honest representation of what you were selling me. I found out too late it was the chain you held me with. And when I broke free, it wasn’t just me that suffered.
I bleed. A slow bleed that I hope to God won’t kill me before I’m capable of figuring out how to handle you.