You ruined me.

You destructed me.

Undid me.

And I bet you smiled as you slowly inhaled the ****** scent of the scratches on  my heart. I bet you spun around in joy at the scathing remarks you sent my way. I bet you did. I don't even wonder if you planned it all, I know you did. You consciously made the choice to ruin me time and time again.

Now I'm in this mess because of you. I fell in love with hard to get; hard to understand as well. I don't care if you care, I care that I hurt. I care, at least I care, about me.

Only you could have planted a seed so deep in me and then never tell me about it. Only you could've put banter so deep in my heart that I would barely understand that banter is wrong. Banter is hurt.
But due to you, it feels like love.
To be honest, I cannot count how many times that seed has ripped open my heart with its growing roots, or pierced it with the numerous small thorns on the stem. It must have been countless times, because banter is hate and hate is the love of hate and all dark sides to the moon, not the white love of the unknown. But I never understood that. And it was you.
You who did this to me.
I could tell you tales that would harrow your soul, but I guess I will leave it at this:

                        You ripped my heart out
                        Your blackened tongue burnt my soul
                        You destroyed any hope of loving I had
                        You chased all my feelings and cut me off
                        You dragged all my hopes into the dark
                                        and I hope
                          I hope you are happy

I hope you are happy, knowing that that seed inside me has bloomed, and that it probably will remain like that forever.
I hope you are happy, after having squeezed all the love out my soul and the words out my heart.
I hope you are.