Six months ago I stomped your heart out on the streets of the neighborhood we used to roam.
You hated me. God, you fucking hated me. You hated that you loved me. God, you loved me. So much.
Tears were coming down from your mesmerizing green eyes, it was tragically beautiful. You were at your most vulnerable, your most raw and true self. The red around your eyes just brought out the green, I’ve never seen your eyes so bright yet so lifeless. You were crying, but it was beautiful.
Your knuckles were coated in blues and purples. You were so angry I could feel the hatred in your screams.
Now I’m looking at you, the 6am sunrise shining down on us, and you’re looking at me how you used to.
Before I broke your heart.
I swear you have the same puppy dog eyes, the exact same loving expression written all over your face.
How do you do that?
How do you still love me, the exact same, after I broke you?