Tattooed into my blood, are the memories of every evening spent with you screaming in my face. Your indifference towards me was intoxicating. These moments are seared into my brain, thick scar tissue entrenched into my veins.
It wasn’t always like this. When we first met, your laugh was radiant, your bones were carved out of sunlight. Celestial. My blessing, what reason did I have to distrust you? I sold you, my soul. A beautiful jigsaw couple instantaneously connected. You’d spin me around in the kitchen to our favourite song, we reeked of Hollywood cliches.
But you were the moon, always changing.
I welcomed your Chinese water torture lies that drip drip dripped into my mind. I remember every time you called me a psycho, and every time you yelled that I was insane, until I believed that’s who I was. Crazy. You made me miserable, but I wanted you all the same. I was a slave to the memories of what once was.
My mildness made me your perfect doormat, until I wasn’t. Even doormat girls hit breaking point sometimes. Mine came in the form of numbers hidden in your phone and late night lies. Call me what you want, but I’m not a liar. The straw that collapsed my spineless back.
We were a delightful shame. I realised that months after.
Now I’ll hear our song on the radio and turn it down. Our kitchen dancing makes my chest hurt. Maybe memories are meant to fade.