Dear _____,
She hated the way I snapped.
I broke her with my words in half like a pretzel.
A stale, saltless one at that.
One no one wanted to eat. Good for her.
She hated the way I cracked.
I tore at her with my thoughts like a tornado.
A musty, murky water grey.
One that hates and doesn't care. Fine with me.
She hated the way I lied.
I crucified her with my hands on the keypad.
A broken, dirty fingernail black.
One that looks like diseased grime. You deserve it.
She hated the way I cried.
I hollered at her like a newborn baby, dying.
A bruise of green and purple too.
One no one wanted to look at or hold. I'm used to it.
She hated the way I hated.
I looked at her with lonely eyes of a starving child, hypnotized.
An internally bleeding shade of red.
One that looks like a beatless heart. I regretted giving that away.
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