My Bleeding Heart

It starts with a deep pain in my chest and a sting in my eyes. 
My mind working overtime to process so much hurt. 

You don't seem to care. 

The second step is to confront you. 
Screamed hate and softly spoken daggers. 

You think I'm being foolish. 

Next, I bury it all deep down. 
My heart, still bleeding, in denial about the injury. 

You say I can just fix it up. 

Later, we "talk it out". 
I am in tears, and you sit coolly and point out my flaws. 

You can't wait to be rid of me. 

Now I spit insults and spite at your feet. 
The hate covers it all up, makes everything better. 

You wish I wasn't such a problem. 

We sit there and forgive each other. 
I admit I miss you, and the bullet hole is bandaged. 

You found an easy way to fix the problem. 

It happens again. 
I sob, wondering how I could be so gullible. 

You claim it's my fault... again. 

This time, I tell no one. 
I let my emotions storm and rage; I let my heart bleed.

You're glad I'm not bothering you anymore. 

I do other things and make new friends. 
The cut's scabbing over. 

You do the same, but there's no injury to speak of. 

You are out of my mind. 
The wound's just a scar now. 

You're thankful you're with your other friends.

I run into you while with friends. 
I regard you with an icy countenance, my glare meeting your eyes. 

You expected this. 

With a smile, I brush you off. 
I turn to the others, full of regained laughter and gaiety.

You shall never hurt me again.