Tangles of the Mind

pyromaniac

his hands are still wrapped around my throat; not for a second loosening it's grip.

i burn the photographs, trying to erase the memory; him.

behind every smile, every flash of the camera, jars of tears remained.

his words leave marks deeper than i ever cut; my body scarred from my own doings, my heart scarred from his.

i will never allow another soul to get as close as he did, i may break for good.

maybe that is why i distanced myself from the boy with the inky brown hair, he was simply getting too close; the first since my soul was broken.

i lie awake, once again numb, thinking what might have been if i had let him in.