You were the ocean
that kept my body floating atop the waves when I wished I could drown.
You were the cobblestone road
that guided me away from the cruel world when I needed somewhere to go.
You were the kleptomaniac
that broke my ribs and used your blood-stained hands to steal my heart.

But you were also
the hands that swatted my paper airplanes out of the cloud-filled sky,
the thin, red lines that scattered across the skin of my frail wrists,
the hateful words that made my cheeks redden with rage.

You forced everything down my throat so that all I could do was choke.
You left me
no air to breathe,
no ladder to descend,
no faith to rise.
So now I don’t know have much left.

I can see you in my mind, even when I don’t want to.
Your face reminds me of the ticking of a clock, edging closer and closer to another wasted second of my life.
Your hazel eyes, though seldom seen through your mess of unruly hair, share a melancholy that only I can sense.

You may have taken a lot out of me, but I took parts of you as well.

We will never be the same again.