My body’s weak and my hands are struggling to find something to hold onto; you took note of this struggle and reached out for me. Your grasp – weak and shallow, just like the person you are – engulfed me into this state of mind, one where I thought you loved me. And maybe, well maybe you did.
But your love for another had you slowly unwrapping your fingers from mine, while another, was clawing onto her skin.
And you inched your lips across her body. Leaving marks that you’ve once left on mine.
At that point, I should’ve known you were trouble. That you were bound to hurt me – to use me for your own pleasure, and throw me away at ease.
I never blamed you for what happened, I should’ve been more careful.
But if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have learned.
Wouldn’t have learned to stand up on my own, my once frail limbs are now bulletproof.
My glossy eyes – filled with tears – are now glistering of a new hope and a new strength.
The strength that I don’t need anyone to fix me.
Because I am, and always will be, enough on my own.