You think they really care about you….
They’ve said it a thousand times
A million different rhymes
A billion different rhythms
New tones of their voice that sound like a sweet melody playing over and over in the music box that is your heart.
“I like you”, “You’re sweet, nice, funny, beautiful” Etcetera, etcetera… so on and so forth.
But no. That can’t be! Can it?
That’s the point. You THINK you know.
You think they think you’re special….
The harmonic notes of baritone voices fill your memory.
Flashbacks of times past where you KNOW you’re so sure
And he’s told you “you’re different”
And “you’re the closest to me by far”... after he’s hurt you.
Imagine.
Poor child, you THINK you know.
Those angelic words turn devilish after the context is taken; after the conflict is reached.
Little girl, wake up from your childish fantasy in a woman’s shoes that don’t pinch as tightly as they could, but give you too much room…to grow maybe.
He hurt you.
Took that silly little heart that you so willingly gave out to him—beating, thriving, rich, and pure—and gave it back NOT in an instant.
He waited…
‘Till it was drying up from the air outside of the body.
‘Till it lessened its beating...
Shrank in size…
Lost its blood, red, rich color…
And softened its ability to love
Ha… You still THINK you know now.
Stop these lies little one.
Stop playing with the devil’s dangerous fire; so red and inviting just because you were intoxicated by its smoke
Before you get burned again….
Wake up.
Learn.
Because it’ not just him.
It was before his reign in your heart,
Before he “earned his place” in your head.
You think they really care about you
You think you know.