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You blew me apart, and I put myself back together. The pieces don't fit right, some of me is always going to be missing.
There's always going to be a you shaped hole in my heart. You left me, I never wanted to leave you. You ended it. You quit, gave up, changed the game.
Now you want to go back to being friends? Now you want to talk, hang out, spend time together. Every minute with you I break even more. You're slowly poisoning me, but I'd let you inject it right into my veins. Irrationally, erotically codependent on you. Pull the trigger and blow my literal heart out at this point. The pain wouldn't be any worse than it is now.
You destroyed us with one simple act, word, line, but I'm supposed to be the bigger man, and move past it. I can't even prove (what you've done to me) to save my own life. Now there's two of us, trying to be a whole again, our edges bumping, knocking against fresh wounds, still healing scars, and we pretend it's fine, we pretend it doesn't hurt. Pretend the hurt never happened, or that we've moved past it and are good again. Avert your eyes.
Leave the room. Walk away when you can't handle the shame or guilt. We could consume the world and if we could go back to the way it was, I'd let it burn.
Even stones will wear sharp edges snooth over time, but we're flesh, and blood, and full of so much hurt. Sharp retorts, biting words, those don't erode even as fast as rocks in a sanding drum. Chewed up and spit out, damaged and unwanted.
Bury that in the past. Forget about it. But how do you forget broken trust, and broken hearts?
Let me tell you, we were born to bleed. For each other. For the world on occasion. For the few unlucky bastards that have called us friend.
"You alright there man?" and the inevitable response "Of course. I'm fine."
Let me tell you brother, we're the farthest thing from fine you can ever get to.