Hurts

Each of your words stabs me like a knife, each of your glances is like a wordless judgment, and each of your messages is like a band-aid on my broken heart. I don't know whether to thank you or blame you. You were the one who caused my joy, but at the same time, my downfall. Each of those nights, crying and begging God to take me with him, wasn't it enough for you? In the end, I'll always be the bad guy in a poorly told story. It's strange how the affection and love I have for you diminishes every day, but at the same time increases. It's confusing to see you and think about love and hate. Am I to blame? Am I to blame for all your words? Am I guilty of your actions? These are questions that will always be fired like bullets in my weak heart.