If The Truth Hurts...

      They are whispers because my words are uncertain, I have been clinging to habit for too long. You will answer with your mouth that it is alright, you will answer with your eyes that it is not. I will contemplate taking it back, but besides the flood of memories and those last few straws on my back, we both know it's too late.
      The cuts will heal long before the other marks do, and I will forever be left wondering why and what if. You will love me still, and I will pray that that will fade much quicker than with time.
      You always apologized, which never made sense, because your words could never be as cruel as my intentions. It was never you who sought so hard to catch their eyes. It was only what you couldn't change, what I decided I could not put up with, that you ever did wrong. Let the blame rest with the one who deserves it. They were my thoughts, not yours. It is I who seeks elsewhere, you are not an explorer.
      And we both know it's too late.