You
ripped me open
like I was gift wrap around a bomb—
not a girl.
Tore through the softest parts of me
with hands that once promised safety.
Then smiled.
I bled silence.
I rotted in the hollow you made,
buried under memories you set on fire
just to warm someone else.
And now—
you greet me.
Smile like a Sunday stroll,
like you didn’t
shoot love point-blank
and whistle while walking away
from the grave you dug in my chest.
You left me
gasping in the dirt,
still calling your name
like it was a ******* prayer.
But you—
you were just the devil
dressed in second chances.
So don’t you dare look at me
with that crooked grin,
like I’m still the fool
you left in that pit.
You didn't break me—
you woke something
that will never sleep again.
And I hope
it haunts you.