Writer: Maram Mohammed

I am hoping that one day your bruises won’t ache anymore. I know my words will never be poetic enough to turn the pain inside your head into melodies, but I know that I can only pray. I can only pray that you’ll stop hurting, or perhaps learn to turn the hurt I caused into thorns. Thorns that you can use to make me bleed. You may think that I am selfish, for thinking that way, and I am. At the end of the day you’re hurting because of what I did, and my pain can never compare to yours. But, I am living with the guilt of what could have been, and it hurts. It hurts because I broke too many promises, too many hearts, too many smiles.

I admit that I never felt anything but comfort every time I pushed my hand into a boy’s chest and drained his heart out. But something about the way I did it to you, or the way you looked at me as I did it, or the way you smiled in pain, or maybe the way you said “ it is okay” as I clenched your heart tighter, killed me. It is like you somehow understood that I needed to do it, and your love for me was enough to allow me to. But I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the look of utter peace and defeat etched on your face. It tormented me. Waves of sadness and regret and everything in between squeezed my insides and suddenly I remembered every single boy I thrived off of. I don’t know if this is how they felt, but I am praying to god it isn’t how you feel right now. Because I love you, but I know I am way far gone now.