-- “ W-wait, ”
he stutters, his voice a breaking mirror. --
( that wasn’t what he meant ! )
But Maxie’s sharp words dig DEEP into his fragile heart,
blood running like the beginnings of the sweat
beading along his DEATHLY cold palms.
( a tingle runs down his spine,
falsified words becoming into being,
because THIS poet can’t get it just right. )
“ Y-you--?” His thoughts in disarray,
scattered petals upon a windswept cloth;
Isaac’s face is twisting and so are his lungs.
“ So, y-you never LIKED me..? ”
HOW many ways could this have gone wrong,
he’ll never know,
but the voices in his head cackle and rub their hands together,
telling him,
{ you’re just as hated as you thought, stupid boy! }