The things I’ve said before must mean nothing to you now,
they must touch you like a poisonous blade,
a curved knife in your back, twisted this way and that.
I don’t blame you.
The memory of my unwritten, softly spoken words must sting,
putting your emotions in full swing as you try to sedate them, uselessly.
They must make your invisible wounds bleed,
and become scars only you can see in the dark of the night.
Maybe you blame me.
It was a double-edged sword, you know.
I felt the stab with you, and I always think, if only I could’ve taken it all,
I should’ve taken the fall because you don’t deserve to.
I blame me.
I’m sure you don’t anymore trust the girl who cried
wolf, one too many times, liquid voice seducing you,
only to let you down again, venom inducing you to not believe
anymore the black widow that ate your heart.
I’m sorry though sorry is not enough.