no, don't you dare look at me, e
and pretend that you didn't strike a match against the moonlight
don't pretend that you didn't pick up a parang and declared war
because you did.
you striked a goddamn match and left it burning in an ethanol flame of anguish
now i know you wish you've kept your hand right where it belong
you wish you didn't light up the match
but it's too late.
better find out who your opponent is before you declare war
she is a woman of steel
with a heart of soft fabric
and you, e
you left a permanent tear on her heart where it should be glittering in perfection
you handed her hope like it was candy and crushed it in her hands like it was a bubble, like you had all the right to.
if you're not regretting, then you're an even more terrible person than i thought you were
but i bet you are.
and i'll tell you now, that it's too late
you've striked the match against the dry matchbox
and the effervescence of yesterday's mistakes will haunt you
until you say sorry.
but remember, sorry cannot fix everything
sorry cannot untear a soul
sorry cannot unbreak a broken heart
sorry cannot undo a permanent scar.
so it's up to you now
i wasn't the one who striked the goddamned match
so don't you dare look at me like that.
YOU ARE READING
the 100 things you said to me
Short Story" in which unfriendly conversations were made through the gaps between their bedroom windows until what initially were cold stares and shrugs turned into so much m o r e ."
