that this would have been a bad idea. maybe we knew that it never would have lasted, and that it would hurt - yes, not this much, but still, we knew. we probably knew that it would have to end some time. not soon, but surely. that the timeline of our relationship was governed by a ticking watch, encased in an hourglass, hanging on silver spools of bare thread. beautiful and glistening, but so fragile. they break. we mend the lines between each other. we unwrap and rewrap them over and over again, but we can’t help but end up pushing and pulling. every time they snap, we only try to piece them together again. we scream, we cry. you punch the wall until your knuckles bleed. i shut you out. you beg, i plead, and we both somehow manage to keep the lines going for just a little while longer.
i knew. i knew the drop would be this high, i knew exactly the echoing scream that would escape my mouth come the free fall. but still i leaped, because i thought you wouldn’t walk away from it all the way you did.
i thought if we loved each other, then nothing else mattered because i thought love could make me fly.
"I hate you,"
i scream, over and over again, until my tongue disintegrates from all the poison and my eyes turn black and i feel nothing anymore. i don’t know what it is between us but it’s toxic. the blood that runs through our veins - blood that we once pumped twice as fast from the skipping and running of heartbeats that we used to give each other, now boils in an ugly vermillion. it bubbles and spills over, i lose all control.
my mouth becomes a wry, wretched widow, bitter and sour, and i hurt you with all intention of hurting you.
you make me feel an anger like no other. how did the roses blossom into something so beastly?
