Mental scars

I’m sorry I’m not what you expected.

Perhaps by being so quiet and wanting to shout, the smiles without a smile or the truth so cold that it keeps your gaze to the ground nothing else; the strange pleasures that arose in our mouths as if slowly to the sky we were going to arrive and it is short, Cut the luxury of things and give your thanks and trust nothing more. Think of all that I could destroy from you and how good I was to let you go but how selfish your pride couldn’t let time flow.

As if our skins fit perfectly and their agony were to cry out to collide, touch, feel and worship every inch of the sweat you shed being my favorite creation, with obscene thoughts as if we were two angels from hell seeing the beauty of heaven after playing so much with fire. And it is not too much to say that I know every little detail of your life, I remain marking in my conscience probably false words that I could hear; and that if it was right or wrong, that I could do more and that I did not have to lose, the one who judged with my silence and was my demonstration of hatred, as if it were so easy to battle against everything.

And what a coward that I didn’t yell at you, the fear of losing someone who was never mine, the thought of more criticizing me internally as if it really mattered, but it was so easy to laugh at my pain with so much hate that it scared me, And it’s that if I can be laughing while I’m concentrating on the most untrue and deceitful hypocrisy of someone so real. I’m not sorry to hate you, I’m sorry to have had such high expectations of you when you were no less than a wasted illusion of my heart.

If you want to smash my teeth for telling the truth and for offending you, stick me knives that no longer hurt from so much blood that I lost, I don’t regret thinking so the only thing I regret is that you met me.