October 11, 2017

I won't say your words were like knifes because they were not.

They did not cut my skin, did not scratch my rock-solid walls, did not make me bleed.

Your words were like feathers,
they brushed ever so faintly against my mind and planted questions that didn't need answering.

Caressed my thoughts and covered them in doubt, made them go round and round in circles.,
where each round made me doubt more, and more, and more.

And when you at last decided to twist the knife by saying you loved me.

I was already convinced,
you did not.