This morning you told me to come in close and I told you I was afraid to because I knew it was going to be the last time. I asked you if there was someone else and you hesitated. You told me you had found someone who filled the parts of you that I could never fill. You told me that if I would’ve done this or if I would’ve just done that, then maybe your feelings for her wouldn’t have developed so quickly. You told me that she laid her head on your lap drunkingly only hours after I had laid my head on your chest before we fell asleep together earlier that morning. You told me you missed me and that you loved me, but then you told me that she was lovely and that she was there whenever I wasn’t. You told me that you were going to drop her off at her car before heading home when the bars started to close, then you accidentally mentioned in a conversation that her car had been broken down for weeks. You told me she liked to party, but that you could change her into someone like me, someone that was worth having a relationship with and not just a fling. You told me that you didn’t want me, but that you liked coming home to me after you had been out drinking till five o’clock in the morning. You argued with me, scolded me, snapped at me, ignored me, terrorized me and humiliated me, and then you asked me to kiss you deeply one last time. You told me that I was the one for five years too long and then you threw me away like I was nothing. And what hurts the most, is that I let you.
One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.