The Color Red.

I wish I could say I was sorry. But the truth is, I’m not. I don’t make any apologies for what I did because you broke me and never once did you turn around to say you were sorry. You never regretted what you did, nor did you care to notice what you left behind and the destruction you created. I still wonder sometimes what life would be like if you came back. But deep down I realize and know I’m better off without you. You destroyed me. You broke everything good left inside of me. I don’t even recognize the girl I became because of you. And sadly, I still don’t know who currently resides inside my body. She’s empty, she’s broken, she’s constantly sad, but she is trying.

Trying to fight her way to normality again. Hoping one day to feel complete. That she won’t wake up with tears in her eyes, that she won’t have to stay busy in order to get a moment of peace, and that she will be able to sleep an entire night without waking up shaking with fear. However, that just seems so far away. The future seems impossible to me because I don’t know how to let go. On the outside I am going through the motions, taking the steps necessary, trying to convince myself its real, but my heart says otherwise.

I had to push you away, I had to force you out because if you stayed another second I surely would have been beyond repair. It’s terrifying to admit. But I don’t think I can consciously call what we shared love. Because if it was, how do you walk away from me like that? There isn’t a label to properly assign us. We were the color red; passionate, consuming, hot, fiery, bloody, destructive, bold, and then gone, just like a flash of lightning.