It hurt me when you left me high and dry in the middle of everything right when I needed you the most. But it hurt me more when I called you six months later, sobbing, with my voice as heavy as the lump your heart once had and you kept saying hello even after I replied and it did not seem like you were interested. Did you not recognize my voice or were you pretending to have forgotten it? Did you forget how my warmth was enough to shield us both from your coldness? Was it all a lie? Was the bond we once shared nothing but you trying to make me believe in fairy tales? Because I did not come out of it.
I am still wandering in the lost lanes of the fairy land you helped me conquer. Did you forget how we lay hands on the last bite of my favorite pizza and fought for it? Did you forget how the mall’s emergency exit parted us from the world so our lips could meet? Did you not cherish the times we sneaked out of classes so we could create our own world or the times you would wait extra minutes in the hallway right behind me pretending to set your books in the locker or discussing with your boy gang topics that were so irrelevant, when all you wanted was to hear me randomly talk about things that interested me the most? Did you not feel the magic that spread when our fingers entwined? Who asked you to jump over the fencing of your house only to see me? Why did you twirl my fringes and gently push them behind my ear? Did it not occur to you that the words that once came out of your mouth would be all I would be left with when you would be done with me?
I wish you didn’t travel back all the way home instead of directly coming to me so you could bestow me your favorite shirt. I wish you did not press your body against mine. I wish you did not call me late at night and spoke out beautiful things that made whispers through my soul. I just wish. I was a pretty sorted person with a specific list of do’s and don’ts and you were my only exception.
Now, you’ve left me.
You’ve left me with a pen and a blank page.
Now, I snarl in front of the mirror looking at my smudged eyeliner and wondering where I lost myself. All it has done to me is let loose my strength and become the naïve egg shell I otherwise pitied. I believed you when you told me I was something mystical in colored lights. The colors that once spilled of my soul have turned into shades of red. Irony is, it was your favorite color. The spark that once ignited between us has become a wildfire and there does not pass a day that it doesn’t damage my world.