Sixty Nine

One.  I hurt for you,i let my heart break for you, i let the pain you inflicted on my heart overwhelm me, i let it fall down into my skin and drown in my blood which was filled with your scent, plastered in my mind reminding me of what we once were.

Two.  You were a definition of everything i thought i wanted. Your hands on my face was magic, you were the bane of my existence and i could swear the world literally revolved around you because with you i was always in a daze. Confused and lost in my mind i was like a child, in a big world, wandering. At the end, i became exactly that girl, the girl thats falls for the boy but is ignorant and oblivious to the fact that the boy is off in another world that he, is not her prince charming. fuck you cinderella.

Three.  When i saw you with her the other day, i died  sixty nine times, sixty nine the number of days it took for me to fall in love with you and for you to make a fool of me and break my heart. Sixty nine became my favourite number, reminding me of how little time it takes for every single thing you thought you wanted to break you into sixty nine individual pieces and put you back together sixty nine times better so thank you sixty nine times for making me sixty nine times better.

Four.  And when the pain got so bad that my heart felt like it was sinking deep into my chest into the abyss of despair that i had created within my soul, i took a blade,sliced my skin and let it rip apart like it was a sheet of paper,each slice for a memory. I let it bleed and hurt because you know what? The physical pain was bare able. I could take pills for it and wrap it up but i couldn't take out my broken heart and nurture it like i did my wrists. The scars represent the number sixty nine and it represents my death and burial sixty nine times into my wrist so yes, with my blood i wrote my pain, embellished it on my skin to remind me of you, years from now.

Five.  I hated you. I hated you so much i didn't think i would survive it but then i realised hate is not for me. Hate is for the Syrian child without a home. A child made a refugee in his own birth country where he was supposed to be protected and free so you see i had no right to hate. Let, my syrian kid hate the system that robbed him of his childhood at the age of 5. Let the Palestinian kid without a father hate the system that killed his father yet the system tells him its protecting his future so yes, i decided not to hate you. I went numb for you. I closed my heart to you. I was done with you.