opening the wound.
when i left you,
it tore a deep cut inside of me.
every time i thought of you, saw you, heard of you —
this cut would sting violently, as if it had been doused in lemon juice.
days, weeks, months passed without you by my side
and slowly the cut began to heal.
it would only be a matter of time until it stopped aching
whenever you were around.
unfortunately, when i left you,
i had slashed into you a cut that was too deep, too painful;
it couldn’t heal on its own.
you keep coming back to me,
unintentionally ripping open my wounds all over again
in an effort to close your own.
such is our fate, our never ending cycle.
we keep tearing each other apart in a vain attempt to find peace,
but all that it leaves behind is blood and scars.