Massacre of an Already Desperate Woman in Love

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The declaration rang inside of me,
ricocheted back and forth between
my ribs and then finally hit my heart,
where it lodged itself inside of a throbbing vein.
It was the first bullet to ever shock my body.

“I’m not in love with you.”
He faced me, pronouncing the words at the rate
Of one syllable per heartbeat.

Like inverted rain, my blood splashed from the impact
And stained my eyes in shades of burgundy and vermilion.

If my vision was deficient before, I was blind now.
But I was not deaf. Those six words were murderous.
And I would hear them forever.





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