In retaliation, I beg of you not to flatter yourself.
Yes. You were, indeed, my firework, one of three things in this entire world that I loathe.
I'd known fireworks were supposed to be beautiful; a display of colors that light the sky up in an aray as colorful as my mind. I'd waited and waited for the show to start, for you to make my world a more beautiful version of itself.
You did, and you were beautiful.
You exploded right before my eyes.
You left third degree burns on my skin that melted away my flesh faster than I learned to hate you. It's scarred with memories of why I can't stand to be near your kind.
You blasted a hole in my chest; right where my heart used to beat specifically for you.
You took the breath That hitched at the thought of you away, and you never gave it back.
You shattered the bones that were prepared to hold you for as long as you existed.
You were there.
And then you weren't.
And here I am, a husk of myself.
And you haven't even begun to understand.
