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