you.
oh god, you.
i used to write about how you looked like a flower and how the way you loved me was like stars being born over and over again.
and for a while it was all you were, all we were,
explosions of lust,
of what i thought was love being created between us.
i picked flowers for you and wrote for you over and over again.
i liked it when you pet my head and held my hand.
i loved it when you told me you loved me.
you loved it when i was on my knees for you,
hugging you and practically kissing the ground you walked on.

but you hurt me.
you stole from me and pushed thorns into my skin,
thinking i would let you.
but i couldn't.
the star exploding sounded like cars crashing now
and the flowers i gave you left me with ****** and spots of blood on my hands.
what was pink was now gray and i couldn't believe you did it.
i said, "no,
don't hurt me,
you hurt me.".
you acted like you cared.
you told me you didn't mean to but i saw the look in your eyes when you told me what you did,
when you did what you did.
i knew what you felt and you didn't' even have to say it.

you told me to come back when i forgave you, if i ever could.
and i wanted to so badly.
i wanted to personally take out the thorns and wrap bandages around my heart.
but i couldn't go back.
i didn't want to anymore.
i was afraid of your true self and i wanted nothing to do with it.
so i stayed away.
what a waste?
months and month of loving you.
giving you everything i should have been giving myself.

not even a week later you found someone new.
my heart ripped open the bandages and bled and bled and bled.
you.
you stole from me and hurt me.
i told you and you left.
you never apologized and that's what hurt most.