i know you think of me, maybe not frequently but i'm sitting there in your mind on occasion and those are the moments i still breathe for.
you can hate me all you want, my heart has become as beaten as a punching bag by now; tattered and worn but still there and ready for more. i love that you say you hate me because at least i'm getting some kind of emotion from you. i know that i'm still there on your mind like a faint taste of something spicy on your tongue.
you don't want it there.
but it won't go away.
i won't go away.
i admit that i did it, i ruined us and i enjoyed every second of it.
i'm sadistic.
i bruise with looks and i cut with words.
we were murdered and i got out half alive, able to hide away the gun. does that count as partial suicide?
i know it still hurts and some days i just want to take it all back, but i can't so i'll just sit here and revel in the fact that the definition of you and i is still thought of.
you can deny it, but i know better.
you can deny me, but i'll still be here.
