w r e c k a g e ✓

the wreckage of his heart

❝God, he's so bitter all the time. I wouldn't be surprised if he's never had a girlfriend before. I mean, just look at him, he's got a big stick up his ass.❞

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THE BOOK OF lies could never compare to the amount of lies that she had told him. Except, maybe I love you. He should've known from the start. She was too pretty for him. She was the girl of his dreams, and yet eventually, he knew that he had to wake up.

'Cause dream girls don't fall for scrawny freckled faced boys with unkept hair and swampy green eyes like his.

But him?

He fell too quickly, too fast, too hard. She knew it too. She knew it, and she loved it. Because that was her, the girl of his dreams, the girl who went around breaking hearts for fun. The girl he fell too quickly, too fast, too hard for.

"You may not be good enough for everyone else, but surely you're good enough for me."

That was her line. Her hook. A phrase that had made all of his insecurities wash away when with her. A phrase that he had heard her say multiple times to her next victim.

She had shaken his system to the core. She had stripped him of his happiness. She had left every piece of him behind. But he should've known, for he fell too quickly, too fast, too hard.

You may not be good enough for everyone else, but surely you're good enough for me.

Liar.

There are people who appreciate your beauty, you won't believe it, but I'm one of those people.

Liar.

I love you more than I love the moon. More than I love the sun. More than I love the stars and everything in between.

Liar.

I would die before I could ever break your garden filled heart.

Liar.

She had done more than break his heart. She had tore it out from his chest. She had ripped it into shreds, throwing whatever that was left of it into the pits of hell.

Too quickly, too fast, too hard.

He let out a blood curdling scream. He punched the pillow on the left side of his unmade bed. She had used it. It smelled like her. Like her strawberry scented shampoo.

She had laid there once, and she had told him all of those lies. She had laid there and hushed him when he would begin to deny her every lie. She had laid there and she had kissed his worries away. She had laid there and watched him sleep. She had laid there before she had left.

Now, he was alone, bitter, angry, sad, yet again insecure, and dying from a broken heart.

To quickly, too fast, too hard.