Less than Worthless

I loved you once.

You always held my hand when I was too scared to cross the street, never a frown to reach your lips. The bloody crimson that stainend the skin you wore always intrigued me. You called me beautiful when I reached to feel the scar that traveled over your pained face. We would watch the birds soar by, speaking of a longing freedom when we were alone, when no one else cared for me but you. You said I was yours, and I was happy. You said you would wait for me.

but you were impatient.

You liar.