Truth

It's the truth.

He said "I love you" to someone after me.

He told me that he loves her.

He fucked her more than he ever did me.

She loved him. Probably more than me.

And when this pain crawls up my heart,

should I stay or shut my eyes and run?

Should I cripple into a blanket and hide in a corner—

a corner that looked like the one under his desk in his hostel room?

No, I shouldn't have run.

I should have sat in the room they were making love,

while they were—

invisible to them.

I sat there, breaking bit by bit,

watching him pine for her.

I sit there with hot flashes of shame,

when she gives him the love that he deserved

and I couldn't muster to give.

I sit there watching happy tears wash his face,

which were once mine.

I sit there as my heart soaks the waves of pain.

I tremble, I twitch.

I stare in silence, wide-eyed.

I sat there until my heart bled and bled.

I sat there till all the chains between us broke down.

I sat there until all the pain numbed out.

I finally got up

and walked across the puddle of my own blood—

leaving footsteps of blood that I knew wouldn't be followed