3AM

Game

I was a game. A harmless game where you could see how many pieces my heart would shatter into.

The first time I saw you, you were leaning against my locker like some cliché bad boy; you surely fit the roll perfectly. I think you knew then that I was a marionette on your strings because I, of course, tried to avoid all eye contact. So much was going through my head that my heart couldn't keep quiet.

I tried to ask you to move but your feet were glued, giving off an aura of confidence that I didn't have. Your body shifted, leaning so close I could taste your cologne in my mouth. You taunted me with your flirts, tainting me with your touch, you forced my eyes to reach yours. Your eyes were electric, lighting striking with the thrill of the scheme.

Had I known then that I was a game, a small penny to your swear jar of sweethearts, maybe I wouldn't have fallen so hard.

But I didn't know.

When I learned the truth, I kept quiet. I was afraid to lose you. I had let myself get so caught up in the trick, that I thought if you left, I'd be the only loser.

So I kept my secret locked away, hoping this false love would stay. But it didn't. Instead I built up a wall made of flawed hope, not realizing you could break it down with a single touch.

My feelings were nothing but dandelions to your wind of treachery. My emotions were a mountain to climb and my body to conquer. My heart was only to be ripped out of my body and thrown into the dust.

All because of a harmless game.