Words from a late 20-something who is pretty sure she's screwing it all up.
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,
"You owe me."
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky.
You should have just stayed away from me.
You never should have come into my life,
pretending that you had good intentions when
everything you did was more for you
than it ever was for us.
You never should have made me believe I meant something to you when you were using me to fill the emptiness life left you with.
You never should have lifted my spirit so high just to crush it, drop it, and step on it, because now there’s blood on your hands.
And it will show.
Every love letter you write, and you will write them,
every hand you hold,
every naive face you fucking stroke, all the features you trace like a connect-the-dots (because it’s all a game to you)
you will leave the red behind in damages, in stains.
It will trail after you like paint.
You are guilty!, it will howl at you,
it will eat you alive, the guilt, it will scream inside of you with every new girl.
But not louder,
No, asshole, not louder
than I screamed into my pillow
for the three fucking weeks
after you left.