Disgust churns my stomach, and rage, and a vibrant brilliant hate that I pull around me like armor.
I shut off my intuition because you told me to. I ignored my voice because you said it was lying.
Truth glares at me as I look back over what we had and know I was right, but you stifled me.
Just trust me, you said.
It turned me mad. That flickering on the stove, don't you see it?
Bile is high in my throat, filling me, and I swallow uselessly. Careful words. Careful lies.
Everything I held for you shattered. Your colors show, finally, not just in glimpses but in vivid honesty, and I see that the man I loved was not underneath there. He wore a mask to hide what he was, and I fell for it. I feel foolish, I feel ill, I feel nothing but angry.
You card was the Devil, and I should have listened to it. Not to you. Your words are lies. Your truth doesn't exist. Your cracked foundation is worthless and false, and I tried to build upon it.
It taints my memories. It turns them black and shadowed. I recoil at the thought that you have touched me, and I you, and then you her, and those hands are my hands somehow and I want to strike them out at you and seize back what you took from me. Time. Sanity. Love. How thoughtlessly you played your games, and how stupidly I allowed them.
Your world will end. Your love is misleading. She'll see it. You'll grow bored when the work sets in. She'll see how selfish and entitled you truly are. I wish you had told me kindly, softly. I wish I had not learned this way, but I am glad of the anger. I cut you from my brain and I scrub my skin and I leave your memories in bloody tangled pieces behind me and I move onward, to a place you in your weakness could never follow.
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