Bruises and blood.

Your voice, like nails biting on my flesh, clawing onto my insecurities in the name of beauty. Beauty which you see on my face, my pale skin, and my long, cascading locks.

An old routine.

I was a fool to think that this time, it would be different. It would be better. A fool to mistake my wounds as healed, over the span of time I’d spent hiding the agony in a dark corner, wishing it would eventually go away, if I just pretend it was never even there.

Today I’ll sleep a little too peaceful, a little too sound, and a little too content.

I’m baffled for a while, overwhelmed honestly. It’s either you or the poetry I was reading just now. My first thought is to ignore but something feels wrong so I swipe right the very next second. You say my name and my sole focus is on your voice. How badly I missed waking up to this every morning. 

If I say I’m madly in love with you, you’d know I’m lying.

Darling I lied to you, every time I said you were the best thing that has ever happened to me. I lied to you, nodding my head, when you asked me if I was happy with you. I lied to you, when I said I understand all the reasons when you didn’t call. Or drop a text.
And worst, I lied to you, even as I walked away, when I made you believe that for the brief time we were together, we loved truly.