Our Fractured Fairytale

I thought we were a story with a fairytale ending; a happily-ever-after. But you were a ‘close the book and burn it if you don’t like the chapter’ kind of person.

Here is the tragic truth of it (of the pages you turned to ashes).

You were all claws and sharp teeth and sharper tones. And I never would have given up on you.

I was all covered up, hiding my wounds, until a moment of vulnerability had me revealing the places you had drawn blood. And you gave up on me.

Life is a lake and your cruel goodbye is the rocks in my pockets.

I think I killed myself, trying to keep you alive.

I think you are haunting my grave, dangling your happiness on a string of laughter above where my body rots.

You were so many things. Now you are the last puncture in my lungs. The ultimate knife wound on my back. The final nail in my coffin.