I hear you’re over it.
That she means nothing.
But while they point all ten fingers at each other,
I point but one.
At myself.
Thank you, my darling,
for letting me know that I meant nothing too.
You constantly say that
you can be trusted,
but with so many blades in my spine,
it’s hard to see anything clearly.
You’ve become the MVP of a game
that only you know how to play.
A trampoline that bounces whatever I say
back at me, 10 times harder.
Avoidance is a harsh punishment,
don’t you think?
That’s it.
The rose-colored glasses are coming off.
You have neither reason nor rhyme
to take what is not yours
only to throw it away in the end.
I say these things in humility,
only wanting what is best.
But how to fix a heart
that wasn’t broken in the first place?
Ask the scars.
Only they know.