#bleedinginside

trust isn’t broken. it’s shattered. like glass on a silent floor— you only notice it when you step on it bleeding, wondering why it hurts to stand where love used to live.

they smiled while hiding the knife. said “you’re safe here” with a tone they used on everyone.

If you asked me how I am, what could I say?

That I’m fine. That I’m living, laughing. I’m seeing friends, making conversation. I’m running, swimming, eating, occasionally I’m drinking. I’m working. I’m fine.

That I’m floating in the water on my back and staring at the late summer sky, deep royal blue like velvet; staring at these stars which are as beautiful as pictured by Tolkien. That I’m thinking about you, thinking that we are sharing this sky, wherever you are now, Istanbul perhaps, or Hamburg. That I’m pathetically hoping for one of these stars to fall so I could make a wish. That I would wish for you to be next to me; I’d sacrifice this wish for you without hesitating a second.

That I’m laying in the dark and that the dark seems to be never fading now. That knifes are buried in my chest and that the stabbing pain doesn’t allow me to tell how many there are. That, whenever you’re seizing my thoughts now, I can’t move anymore. That the empty darkness is holding me down and all I feel is this stabbing pain and the bitter tears on my cheeks.