Words are Knives

Waste

They called it love.
It was a game.
He played it well,
Almost too well,
As when the game was over,
He took the full reward,
And just like in the Mayan times,
Cut out the loser's heart. 

Oh, what a waste
What a waste of a laugh,
What a waste of a love,
What a waste of a beautiful girl.

The night came,
Again and again,
The girl began to ignore her phone,
Burying the life she had once had,
The thin blade fell,
Again and again,
Along with the bitter tears.

Oh, what a waste.
What a waste of a night,
What a waste of tears,
What a waste of a beautiful smile.

She stopped believing,
In the tiny things that had kept her going.
She stopped answering texts,
Stopped living,
And through her mind,
The words he had said danced,
Destroying everything they touched:

Oh, what a waste,
What a waste of space,
What a waste of time,
What a waste of my beautiful love.

The girl lost herself within them.
She tore out her own heart,
Cut herself into shreds.
That night
Was the last night.
Her phone the only light as
A trembling, pale finger hit send.

Oh, what a waste.
What a waste of pills,
What a waste of the night,
What a waste of a beautiful life.

A/N
So the formatting got messed up the first time? Sorry,
~Elena