You feel pulsating pain blossom through your body from the hands of someone supposed to love you. Yet the purple, red and yellow blotches staining your pale skin have no comparison to the sinking feeling in your gut.
With every new mark, your insides lurch, trying to get rid of the ache, but it does not want to.
Your fragile heart is shattered and pulverized, yet you still find it within you to love them. After all, it is not their fault.
Words, so innocent, yet so serpentine.
And you just sit there, and wonder, "what did I do wrong?"
