Words Not Spoken

XIII

I was just laying down reading when I saw it.
I opened it and read some parts of it.
Why wasn't any of it about me?
All you talked about was the girl you like.
It hurts so much, I want to cry but it's like my head is telling me that I don't need to cry over you. I saw it coming, I mean come on, it's me, why wouldn't you do something like that?
Every word came crashing towards me like a tsunami of knives waiting until they hurt their victim.
Every word burned my eyes from the tears that tried to come out to comfort me.
it felt like my face was on fire, not the "I'm blushing" type of fire, the type of fire when you want it to stop.
The type of fire where listening to certain songs make you want to cry,
the type of fire that doesn't want you to feel happy, it wants you to feel like everything is your fault.
The type of fire that comes when you've cried enough,
the type of fire that makes your voice sore from screaming at yourself,
the type of fire that makes you question if what you did was the right thing,
the type of fire that comes in as the most beautiful thing ever, waking up and thinking about its beauty thinking that it's like a flower, each petal the same but different each petal so much more beautiful than the other. Pink and purples mixing maybe you add a little bit of blue to make it pop, and you end up just smiling thinking why is this one perfect?
You take care of that flower making sure that it stays beautiful, then the day comes. The flower slowly wilts and you notice the thing it was hiding.
It was the most beautiful flower, right? So that made it the most poisonous.
It hurt you in ways you thought no one would hurt you in again, but the only difference is, that it blamed you for getting hurt. On you.
I went in with a helmet and knee pads. I went in cautiously, you knew why.
You didn't care though