Maybe it was the way that your melted chocolate brown eyes had that little fleck inside of them that made you look like you had a little piece of your innocence still intact. Maybe it was the way that your words made me not hate myself as much as I usually do. I fell for you. Hard. And then you did what you had fucking promised that you wouldn't do. I cannot forgive you for that because you have fucking never said sorry for the way you dusted off my glass heart and then smashed it on the floor until it was left in smithereens. All I know now is the fact that your once gleaming and glittering eyes now look like the mud from the bottom of the fucking Dead Sea and your voice feels like scalding metal being shoved down my throat as I am forced to listen because in high school you cannot leave classrooms because of the fact that the boy with the puppy eyes is presenting his project today. You cannot leave a classroom because of the fact that his new girlfriend sits in the seat right next to yours. This is modern day heartbreak. It's the fact that our breakup played out in tweets that should have never fucking been posted. It hurts. It hurts. It fucking hurts. It hurts because everyone sees it and it never fucking goes away.
YOU ARE READING
Dysphoria
PoetryDysphoria - a state of unease or generalized dissatisfaction with life. Atelophobia - the fear of never being good enough.