Something Borrowed, Something Used

The park across the street is dark and wet.
There’s something sad about it.
No, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.
I don’t spend my time missing and thinking of you.
But you would like that wouldn’t you?

No, the park reminds me of something inside that’s still raw.
Something I never shared with you, it was my own, it still is.
Blood on the wet leaves, you never knew how I got that scar. And I wasn’t about to tell you.

This isn’t a depressed scene, you wouldn’t understand. The blood was from my forehead.
I slipped and gashed my head, which made me stop laughing, I couldn’t before that.
I was running and laughing, the rain making me more giddy with every drop of water that hit my face.
He was chasing me, I won’t say who, that part is still mine, only mine.
You wouldn’t know him anyways.
I was only 14, I didn’t know you then, I think I was happier before I did.
The truth hurts and the truth is I could’ve died that night and been so entirely happy not ever knowing you.

It was dark, dark and wet.
My head pounded, but not just from the cut, he was leaning over me

“Shit!” he cursed quietly apologetically

I only said “ouch.”
That made him laugh some. He thought for a moment, picking up a yellow leaf he pressed it gently to my cut, telling me to hush as I winced. He touched my hair and kissed my neck (I need to be cared for too, I can’t, couldn’t, always be the protector)I laughed a little saying

“You stuck a leaf to my head.” He grinned

“Desperate times call for desperate measures”

“Oh yeah?” I asked

“Yeah.” Then he kissed me.

I’m not telling you anymore.
I’ll just say that the rain made it perfect and that my scars run deep, deeper than you cut me.
Now you won’t have the satisfaction of knowing you hurt worst…
No, not worst…
But you hurt me bad.