I scoff, my hand coming over my forehead.
“SothisI get to explain to make you feel better about walking away, huh.” I laugh only because I’m trying not to cry. “Yeah, no. I’m the only one doing the hurting.”
His jaw ticks, words locked in his throat.
Whatever he wants to say dies there.
He nods, more done than pissed,
and steps back.
He’s walking away.
And my heart's pounding from inside my ribcage, screaming at me—do something. Fucking say something. Anything. Please.
But he’s turning his back to me.
Walking.
Leaving.
I move to speak,
but nothing comes out
‘cause those knives he left in me are twisting.
He said he wasn’t going anywhere.
Guess I should’ve askedwhen.
Now I’m staring at his back as it moves
farther,
farther,
the distance between us stretching
wider,
wider,
anger keeping my feet nailed to the tile,
heartbreak holding my mouth shut,
shame keeping the burn behind my eyes.
Then he slips out the glass door,
fading,
fading,
gone.
16 /YOU SEE ME CRYING
