Spoiler! :
There is a scar on the bluish white skin of my chest, just above my heart, that is dedicated to you. It is the scar that you made there. I’d think that by now that I’d be over you. I never really loved you, or so I told myself. I never wanted to stay with you.
When I said goodbye to you, you made that scar. The blood flowed down my stomach, a sticky red river. It stained my shirt brown. I had to throw away that shirt, you know.
It was your fault, they were your words. I just put them in between us, because you weren’t brave enough to. But you slashed them in half with that Swiss Army knife. And I let you.
I’d think that by now I’d be over you, but I’m not. The scar is still bleeding. It covered itself with a pale layer of tissue when I left you. I thought I was on the mend. But now I know how wrong I was.
I’m not healing. The scar is still bleeding. You are still claiming my blood as a sacrifice for the love you think I stole from you. I never stole anything. You brought it to yourself.
I should be relieved that you’ve gotten over me. That’s what they tell me. You’re looking at other girls now. You aren’t hurting anymore. And you never guess that I might be.
The scar is still bleeding. But it’s no longer your hand opening the wound afresh every time it threatens to heal over, it’s mine.
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