I hate you.
I hate you for being okay
With making me feel this way.
I would rather take a beating
Than deal with this this way
Because that pain would be physical
The bruises would sting as a reminder that you had done this.
The cuts and gashes would scab and pull and cause me discomfort, but I could see them. I could find them and heal them in a weeks time.
But what I feel is deep inside an invisible knife is lodged in my heart and everytime I become numb to its pain it twists relentlessly, reminding me that no matter how much I tell myself it is going to be alright, your won’t be by my side.
I can’t pull it out. This knife in my life. I can’t retrieve it from the depths of this black abyss I’ve been sailing in. This will not heal in a weeks time. I can not watch as this wound gets better. I have to wait it out and hope that I am strong enough to pull myself through. With the knife still intact, as a reminder of you.