You come into my house
Because you saw that the door was open
You haven’t spoken to me since I told you I was done

You stride through the hallway
And see the mirror that I had used to photograph myself in for you
Shattered with sharp shards of glass scattered across the floor

You come down the stairs, into the basement
Where you smell the musty smell from the old carpet
The carpet we used to lie on and laugh together

You peer into my art room
There is red ink splattered across my canvass
But this time, its not paint

This time, it is blood from the sharp glass that I jammed into my body
Because nothing hurts more
Than the way you hurt me

Life is not a box of Lego
You cannot persuade someone to build a tower with you
A tower that seems so strong and inferior to the world
A tower that looks like it will last forever
Only to break the tower down
Abandoning the other builder
To clean up the
s
   h
a
     m
b
       l
   e
         s
While you go and build a brick house
With someone else

It’s over now.
I left the place with the poisonous air.
The place I once called home.
But that’s okay.
Because looking back,
There are many things I can smile about.

But that is a fantasy;
A utopia that I wish existed.
Because the reality is,
Whenever I do look back at what I used to have,
I realize that there isn’t something to smile about.
Seeing as the entire life I was living was toxic.
And I was just immune to the toxicity.

The fumes I smelled,
The red flags that were raised,
The sounded alarm,
Were the only thing I ever knew.
I didn’t know what existed just outside the walls I built around me.

So looking back,
At that place I used to linger,
There really isn’t something for me to smile about.
Because what I thought was okay,
Was never normal.

I will not go back there ever again,
Despite the ‘happy’ memories.
For I am no longer immune to toxicity.
And I will no longer inflict sickness upon myself,
From the toxic wasteland I once loved.