You know that feeling in your gut where you know you just lost everything. You said too many words you cant take back. You threw too many punches in the last round. That feeling where you're so sure he slipped right through your finger tips and there's no way you'll ever get him back. To me everything he did was perfect and i hurt hearing the bad things people said about him. I refused to believe the bad things. I still do. I see the good in him but hes slipped from me. I lost the last round, sick to my stomach. My eyes welled up but tears, silent silver tears, refuse to fall. No way to let out--to release this buildup of agonizing pain. Why didn’t you just take a knife and kill me cleanly? I would have rather died like that than such a slow painful death. Instead you made slits on my heart then fixed them with your smile. And each time the slits became deeper and deeper until even stitches cant control and hold the shattered broken mess called my heart.
