dear -----,

you tell me all the things i did wrong. your syllables are curling my own tongue, preparing to tell you the same. your eyes perusing my life like a map, maybe looking for a legend to my faults. faults that you “despise”. ive noticed that you use this word often. like, very often. but after all the times i have heard its shrill cry, i seldom thought it would swarm your lips, just to sting me. and when i cry because i know i have fallen to my faults. i cry and apologize with my heart but you push me away with your head. telling me to stop playing victim. and, i want you to know, victims dont apologize. but i know these words that rest on the crack of my lips will never escape. neither you nor i am the victim. neither you nor i am the villian. simply, we are jailed by our own conscience, our own superficiality, which is digging deeper than i wanted. and when i try to pick up the shards of your anger, i split my fingers open, my blood quickly streaming, just like my tears. your shards are now crawling into my raw wounds, my bloodstream, and to my heart. my fingers still searching aimlessy to directions to the puzzle, looking for a way to mkae ends meet, but all i can find is chaos. tears. shards pouring out of my eyes, fragments of your hatred, your lies, your trust fall onto my lap. i have a secret. i know that those shards will never find a way together, and no one will put them together for you. and if they do, it will never be complete. because there will be a

missing

piece

lodged

in

my

heart.

i am sorry. genuinely. for everything.

take it

or leave it

but

victims shouldnt apologize

villians should.