I said it, end of story.
I can't take it back, no matter how much I want to. What's said is said, and I meant every word of it. The words were hash and bitter but the truth beneath them cannot be shaken.
I feel embarrassed perhaps, no, mortified by my actions and lack of discretion. I learned long ago that words hurt more than anything, and even if something is true there isn't a point to say them If it would just hurt someone.
So why did I cast aside the filter I kept over my mouth through these years? Why did I say to you the only thing you didn't want to hear?
Did I want to hurt you?
Perhaps I did, maybe the dark little girl inside me wanted you to feel the strain of a breaking heart. Maybe I wanted you to finally admit your faults; I wanted you to suffer for what you did.
For what you did to me.
I see now, the green of my eyes in that dark mirror. I see I wanted you to feel my pain. No I wanted you to feel worse pain.
The little girl inside scratches at my insides, grips my heart tightly as if to break it.
Me and her, we watch you, wait for you, but you say nothing.