Letter to my lover.
We met exactly 5 years ago, it took me less than a day to feel the feelings I felt toward a boy who’d barely glanced my way for one second but I knew. I knew one day we’d be more than friends little did I know the feeling I felt would turn unpleasant and back in exact the same…
Letter to my lover.
We met exactly 5 years ago, it took me less than a day to feel the feelings I felt toward a boy who’d barely glanced my way for one second but I knew. I knew one day we’d be more than friends little did I know the feeling I felt would turn unpleasant and back in exact the same amount of time I fell for you. I thought I loved you -I was wrong. It was lust -why I was wrong. Day after day I’d share the joy of the world I’d been given with you, you being not deserving of my prize. My prize possession. Happiness which turn confidence. The prize I’d grown blessed to posses held by few young girls about my age. It was my prize, my gift, to love myself the greatest love of all. The love which had been broken due to a boy, you, who’d made a queen, me, feel less than what she was. Less than what she is. You broke the glass shattering the pieces cutting the flesh of the innocent. Yes, I broke. So I hurt. Not only myself but another. Someone capable of loving me. He was so close, so close, right at the edge. That’s when he felt the glass. He felt the result of your breaking of my glass, I hurt him. I couldn’t let go of my hopeless love for you, so I hurt him. I picked up a piece of my glass and I cut him. I cut what was pure knowing I had once been the same. I tampered with innocent flesh. My heart darkened. But that didn’t stop me from hurting him. I hurt him knowing you hurt me. With her. The devil’s handgun shot right at me -she being the devil. She slipped you from right underneath me. She showed you things you’d never seen manipulating you to make her your queen, and she did. You bowed down to her not knowing she had a king on a different land, but soon you meet. You see how she looks at her knight and shining armor and know that is what true love is. That what you shared was nothing but the dull appetizer before her exquisite meal. She’s broken your glass. She’s shattered your pieces. I, willing to pick up the pieces. I do, foolishly. Getting cut by every sharp corner. I do not stop until I am finished. No matter how much it hurts. I, willing to pick up the pieces, will not stop until I am finished. No matter how much it hurts.