You made her a walking heartache by leaving, leaving without a goodbye, leaving her with nothing but your fingerprints smudged n her heart like stained glass doors. You see, if you dusted her heart for fingerprints, you'd only find yours, but I guess you haven't came back around to finish your spring cleaning, now I have weeds growing around my ribcage, blooming thorns instead of roses, I'm all torn and worn, I guess that's what happens when you care for people a little too much, you get so interested in their story, but they only read the title of yours, leaving you to turn into a dust ball of Death's-head Hawkmoths, showing no yellow, orange, and red hue colors, just the color of death. And if you had bothered to come back after destroying me, you would find flies eating away at my rotting heart after leaving me for the dead. My story has been destroyed, and now my heart is rotting like a dead body thats been buried for too long. Every part of me has turned to dust after you walked away leaving me in the debris of the tornado that was you. All you leave is destruction in your path, not leaving anything as it was. You destroyed me and then you left, you didn't bother trying to fix me even after everything you caused. My heart broke and I died again and again, after you I was walking around dead with a stone cold heart. You made her into debris, not by your car, but by your words. She takes walks beneath the stars, and has too many long talks with the streetlights, they talk about you a lot, but mostly how you were a pig, never treating her the way she should've been, the way she could've been. She changed moods with every season, but you never really noticed, and it wasn't changes for the better, you see you made her weak and brittle, and you tossed her around like she was a sack of old bones, so nothing seemed to matter, you didn't care. You're a fool, didn't you see the way her eyes would light up when she's look at you?¿ or was that the ground?¿ she always knew her hazel colored eyes best. You never saw the way she smiled whenever she saw you, nor did you see how quickly it disappeared when no one was around. You never called her beautiful when she didn't have make up on, was it because you were scared that once that thought popped into your mind you knew you were ******* from that very second?¿ or did you just really not believe?¿ Because everyone else who saw her would have told her how beautiful she really was, and anyone she loved would love her just as much, but not you, yet she still loved you with all her heart. Maybe she thought the more love she gave, the less you would be scared of commitment, because thats why you never stay in one place for too long isn't it?¿ why you never finish a book, why you never unpack your bags?¿ You were so scared of commitment you left the one person who was trying to help and you broke her and made her scared to love.