When I hurt you, I tried so hard it broke me. When you hurt me, you left me broken. You don’t tell someone you love them and then let them hit a wall.
Bottled up for two years. Like an aged liqueur of the bitterest taste leaving only the antiseptic sting of poison in the crevices of each and every capillary of the body. Pride is the greatest defence from betrayal but when the latter hits, unarmed, one falls until there is no one left to fall with, to be caught by. Shattered, one falls to the ground, yet the vertigo does not cease, it continues on as bones shatter, ground into grains of sand like those who make such delicate glass. And the glass, fragile like the tenure of one’s mind, breaks and one lands cut, bled poison and bottled betrayal, ever the vestige of what one once was.
