Giving a second chance is like giving someone a second bullet because they couldn’t **** you by the first shot—
I learned that the hard way.
What you once gave became what broke you.
They say salt looks like sugar—
little did I know sayings are made for reasons and wouldn’t exist without them,
some like myself are just unlucky enough to have to taste the salt.
Even once is one too many times.
You never forget the awful sting on your tongue,
the way your throat becomes dry and tense,
all the water you take to try and undo the effects—
yet you still end up sat there with your stinging tongue and dry throat,
regretting your choices like you always do.
Why would you do that?
You should have tested the ‚sugar‘.
Why would you hand over that bullet?
You should have known they’d want to see the blood they never got the chance to look at after their failed shot.
Then they’d say something along the lines of ‚Its okay, because the red means I love you.‘
And you’d forgive.
Again.
Again.
Over,
and over.

Eventually you’ll gain questions as to why you stay.
Out of desperation?
Or out of love?
Guilt?
Paranoia?
But before you make your choice to finally go,
they leave you first.
Despite what intricate plan you had already devised,
knowing you would leave them—
being left first hurt.
More than you ever expected.
So abrupt that the shock shatters you more than the knowing they do not love you,
knowing you’re no longer everything they once said,
alienated from the words you held onto for so long to convince yourself to stay.

Time will pass.
Some days you forget—
some days all you can do is remember.
The feeling isn’t as heartbreaking,
but that doesn’t help the fact that it’s there,
and always will be.