She kissed the girl, betraying your trust,
Breaking the first unspoken rule of relationships.
She tells herself it was the only way,
Guilt consumes her every night.

The girl was lost, ready to fall,
Too scared, she gave in to it all.
She should have thought of another way,
now her heart breaks everyday,
Reaping what she’s sewn.

She’s sorry she kissed that girl, it wasn’t right,
Your touch that night also stole a part of her.
And she wonders if you, too, felt what she did the day she kissed the girl.

She regrets betraying you
But at least she asked first.

You wanted to change your name,
erase it like a smudge on a window,
disappear,
somewhere no one knows your story.
Maybe then, you could heal-
become someone whole, someone untouched,
someone not scarred by the memory of him.

Thoughts of him coat your tongue in bile,
the bitterness rising every time his name is whispered.
Seeing him smile twists something
a nauseous pull that you can’t swallow down.

You want to be happy for him,
The lie is sour,
a betrayal you taste with every forced smile.

You think of all the things you would do
if you had never met him-
if his eyes never reflected your hopes,
if his voice had never filled your silences.
If you had never cared for him,
never nurtured the parts of him that bled into you,
maybe you could have stayed unbroken.
if you had never felt the things you felt with him,
if his words had never mattered more than your own,
maybe you wouldn’t feel like this,
walking on glass,
the shards cutting with every thought of him.

You wish you could erase him.
Wipe away every trace of his existence in your mind,
so you could stop freezing at the sound of his name,
stop the tears from welling up
when you’re reminded of all that was,
and all that will never be again.

You know you have to move on-
he’s made it so clear,
his life blooming in ways yours can’t.
Good for him.
Here you are, still toxic,
festering beneath the surface.
No matter how much you try to change,
You’re just patching over the rot,
masking the parts of him you can’t face.

You need to ****** this feeling,
bury it deep,
turn your back on the festering wound.
You walk forward,
telling yourself each step is progress,
The weight drags you down.
If you keep going like this,
you’ll crumble under it all.

Maybe that’s what you want-
to fall apart, to die in yourself,
once and for all.

That day she saw you again,
She wore mascara to be composed.
She hates mascara.
It's weight on her lashes,
Another mask she didn’t want to wear.

She rubbed her eyes, smudging black streaks,
You noticed, said it’s why she shouldn’t wear it.
You laughed, not understanding-
She wasn’t trying to smudge her makeup,
She was trying to blur the feelings that resurfaced,
The memories flooding back,
The space that once felt small,
Now a million miles wide.

You didn’t know her eyes carried the heaviness of what once was,
the sorrow of what had become.

It wasn’t the mascara she wanted to wipe away,
It was the feeling of you, still plaguing her.

After so long, it hurt to meet his gaze
to find only emptiness,
a reflection of all the things they couldn’t say.
The pieces still ache.
She wants him to be happy,
The thought of it twists the knife in her chest.

He had sliced her open with the truth,
a cut too deep to ignore.
It wasn’t the kind of pain she knew how to love,
not the kind she could soothe with time.
She bled herself dry-
not realizing, in her desperation to be whole,
She had cut him too.
She tried to get better,
tried to stitch her wounds shut
in the shape of someone he could love.

Healing doesn’t happen for others,
she didn’t see it then.
She had to stop bleeding for him
start mending for herself.
She had to meet the parts of her
And learn to love them in the way
he never could.

She is still learning.
She did so much,
gave so much of herself
to love him, to love everyone,
she was hollowed out,
Spreading herself thin like a worn-out thread.
he only saw the fraying edges,
the pieces of her she couldn’t keep together.

He couldn’t handle her truth-
truth that she is broken and whole
in ways he refused to see.
she is left here,
grappling with the fact
she couldn’t handle it either.

Why didn’t you feel safe in her home?

Echos of that question lingers in the girls mind,
even after their paths had long split,
off to fight their own battles.

What walls did she build
That made you hesitate to stay?
What shadows danced here
to make you look away?

Your words crushed the girl—
a confession she didn’t know she feared,
a wound she couldn’t see before it became chronic.

She had always wanted this place to be their haven,
a space where comfort blooms and they could be free to bask in each other’s carefree wonder.

She told you she didn’t like compliments
a shield she wore
hiding her distrust of others words.

Deep down, she longed for his persistence,
His patience to show her the mirror
of how he saw her,
to make her believe in what she couldn’t see.

She used to test you,
not realizing the cracks it carved
into trust she swore was solid.

She was naïve,
chasing moments of play,
fumbling through the chaos of first loves,
blind to the damage she left behind,
Damage she would never be able to heal.

She desperately waited for him
to charge into the storm of her mind
and save her from herself.

He had already fallen,
struck by the arrow she unknowingly shot—
meant to carry her love,
yet veiled in her fear and doubt.

She is always the architect of her own ruin,
the weaver of her own undoing,
the main character in a tragedy
she never meant to write,
but always knew by heart.

The storm of blame circulates,
“It’s his fault.”
She tells herself,
Trying to make it hurt less.
But she knows—
She hurt him too.

Her mind was a wildfire,
burning everything in its path.
Her pain rained down on him,
and though he tried to hold her steady,
she let herself drown,
refusing his hand.

He hated how little she cared for herself.
Hated watching her spiral,
helpless to stop the fall.
She swallows the guilt like it’s the last meal on earth,
fills the emptiness with it,
chokes on the weight of everything she did wrong.

When she tells others about it,
they all take her side.
It doesn’t feel right.
They didn’t see the pain in his eyes
when he saw through her mask,
when he realized he couldn’t fix what was breaking inside her.

She still feels his presence
shaping the choices she makes.
He wanted to save her.
She tried to let him.
She wasn’t fast enough.

If she could rewind, erase her mistakes,
she’d never have let him step into her storm.
She wishes she’d never met him,
wishes she never put him in a place
where he had to choose between himself and her.

She pulled the thread that unraveled them,
took the final step that ended it all.
And he—
He didn't fight it.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t beg her to stay.

She wanted him to stop her,
to tell her they could still make it,
that he wasn’t ready to let go.
But in his eyes, she saw the truth—
He needed it to end too.

It’s not his fault.
Or maybe it is.
Or maybe it’s hers.

She’s still spinning in circles,
a constant rollercoaster,
trying to get off this ride,
wondering if she’ll ever find solid ground again.

Twists
and
turns.

You never taught her how to play that game you loved so much.
You said she wasn’t the kind of person who could commit,
That she’d never spend that much money on something like that.
You never knew
she would’ve emptied her pockets,
Sold everything she had, just to share an interest with you.
If it meant sitting across from you,
Speaking your language

She almost watched videos about it, trying to learn on her own.
Late nights, phone screen glowing in the dark,
Every time, she’d pause, fingers hovering over the play button,
Because what she really wanted was for you to teach her.
She wanted it to be more than just a game—
She wanted to say, “My boyfriend taught me this,”
To hold the cards in her hands like they were a part of your soul,
A fragment passed down from you to her.

Instead, she stood on the sidelines, watching,
Feeling like she was always just outside your world.
You didn’t know how much she craved that connection,
How much she longed for something you could build together,
Something that would’ve tied you closer,
Threaded through with meaning,
Something more than just a game.

It wasn’t the cards she wanted.
It was the time spent, the lessons learned,
A moment where you saw her not as an outsider,
As someone who belonged in your world.
Instead, she is left to wonder,
What it might have felt like to share that magic with you.