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You still read these. I know you do. I have proof you do.
I hope that you ache and burn with every page turned.
I hope that you crumble in sorrow for the cracks layered through my porcelain.
I hope you remember what you did, for I am all but gone.
You killed me. The girl I once was shattered on the sidewalk.
You hurt her, with every lie and broken promise that came to light.
Yet I stayed. Bandaged and broken, hanging on by strands.
How many time did you truly lie to me.
How many people were you still talking to, it's ok tell me the truth, because I am over you.
I do not want you here right now
I am not willing to let you in with open arms. Not without a hit or two.
But. I will never tell you actually. Not until I get the full truth about the people you cheated on me with that you still try to hide.
Hiding the truth like you hid us.
I will not say this to you, you will read it. I hope you burn long after my poison had worn off.
Fuck you. I'm done.

I would rather die because of the truth. Then to have you comfort me with a lie.

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