Aftermath

The specifics blur with time through my unfocused eyes. I wonder if these memories were traumatic enough for me to supress, or if i've simply forgotten. Either way, fissures still erupt through my heart where you pressed too hard, took too much. It aches.

I apologize and bend over backwards to avoid upsetting people because nothing was ever enough to settle you. The words best friend catch in my throat. I still flinch away from raised hands like a frightened mouse and people laugh like this is funny. Like I don't still break myself to pieces so you can't take that from me, too.

I am nothing but the aftermath, and i'm sure you'd think that's funny, too.