Painting Lies

His words spiral towards me like daggers, killing me, destroying me.

I stagger back, gasping. "Take it back," I whisper. He shakes his head.

"Take it back," I repeat, begging.

Crumbling, breaking.

"Shut up."

Tears start raining down my face. I choke on the bitter saltiness.

Slamming the door behind him, he withdrawals, the harsh cold still clinging to the air surrounding me.

I've never felt so vulnerable, never given my whole self to anyone so freely. So trusting. All to have it spit back in my face. Not again, I promise myself. Never again.

I sink down onto the floor and press my head against the frigid window behind me, it's like my oxygens been cut off.

I feel so numb, so blank.

So worthless, used.

Broken.

I want to hate him. But the only person I hate right now is myself.

I don't understand why he left, I don't even know if it's sunk in yet.

And then the scene replays in my mind, it hits me like a ton of bricks.

Darkness has started to grip at me, trying to pull me in.

"No," I whisper.

And then louder, "NO."

I scream at the cold, at the darkness, at me.

I get up slowly, and leave the place where I shattered.