Thank you for killing me.
There were times when I wished I had done it myself, times when I wished I had been strong enough to ease the pain, to destroy the misery. Times when I wished I could end it all. But you did it yourself; without asking or waiting for permission. You killed me like I will never be capable to, in ways I could not imagine to die myself.
But you did not take away the pain, you did not murder my misery along with the blazing light of my being. You only killed me, my heart, my body, my soul. But never did you take with you the frenzy of hurting nerves licking away at my body like flames burning along my skin. You never took with you the rope of steel encaging my heart like an encaged animal who now could not breathe the shards of peace that perhaps still lingered in the air. And you never took to the abyss of your soul the pain you lit up on my inside, such great throbbing sometimes I still find myself begging to die again, harder this time. But I am already dead – you took care of it like you promised you would.
Most of the times you are all I ever feel, your body flushed against my own as you claim me, ravish me, take away every ounce of innocence the child in me may still have inside.
Sometimes I still feel your breath fanning across my skin like the cool wind of another furious thunderstorm and it feels like I am once more being ripped apart like the dark canvas of a bloody jigsaw full with non-human feelings, not known thoughts. But you do not see how it hurts, how the debris of my being are bleeding because of you, nor will you ever see how that crimson color is not the one that has tainted me so brutally, the very one that keeps me dead.
I am still embraced by your colors, dear, a sick green that reflected the rough grass you once laid my body onto, the pale disgusting blue mirroring the summer sky that fell upon us like a mantel of dirt, a mantel of hidden insanities you had buried deep inside your dark soul. I am still embraced by the blinding yellow of the bright sun that died as you lied over me, your manly perfume and musky natural scent drowning my senses like the darkness of your heart drowned the pure light in my life that same awful day I was killed.
I still feel your touch on me and I want to cry every time your fingers dance along my skin, every time your feverish, animalistic kisses seem to reborn along my mortified cells, every time I feel you close to me.
I am tainted, dear, just like you wanted me to be. I am broken, I am lost. You turned me to nothing and that nothingness is now the shell I have become, the sin I carry everywhere I am brave enough to go.
I forgive you for breaking me, dear. I forgive you for never gluing my fragile pieces back together; I forgive you for being imperfect and still do not be afraid to let your dark beast dash out to the world.
But still you do not understand how your touch lingers on me, how your hands grasp my skin every time the night falls and I am alone with the demons you called upon me in our destroyed childhood, how that cursed day still plays on repeat in my tired mind even after so much time.
Please forgive me for still asking why; forgive me, dear, for never being able to forget. Forgive me for killing myself like I forgive you for being the first to claim that action as yours as well as you did. Forgive me for lying to you when I pretend I am okay, forgive me for smiling upon your arrival and pretend I can not remember what you did that day. And please forgive me for still feeling dirty every time you come around, forgive me for the countless water that falls over my body every time you leave to come back another day. Forgive me for crying every night because of you, forgive my ugly tears for being tainted with your colors every time I fall apart, forgive my silent sobs for breaking the perfection of your life, even if they still are too quiet for you to hear, even if they will forever be too quiet for you to see.
Forgive me because I forgive you.
It has been eight years after all and, dear, I am tired of blaming you for so long, even if it is indeed your fault. I forgive you for what you did, dear, I swear upon the grave you buried me into. I forgive you for destroying the happy child I used to be, I forgive you for taking that child as the toy you seek in your personal hell. I forgive you for killing me.
And thank you, dear murderer, thank you for what you did. Thank you for changing me, thank you for bettering me, thank you for killing me like you did. Thank you for making me stronger, for making me human, for making me not afraid to cry.
You brought your darkness upon me and, bless you dear, for now I do not fear the dark.
I promise you this is the last time I will cry over you. I am setting myself free, dear, I am making my way to the heaven you have taken from me with your merciless cold hands.
And do not fear dear, for I have not forgotten you and I promise your evil soul I never will. But I am now free from what you have done, no more trapped in the hate wall I once built over you.
I do not hate you anymore and, one day, I will stop feeling you in me; I will stop feeling like the scum you made me feel; I will stop being dead. One day the marks you laid upon me will fly away with the soft breeze of a new dawn. One day your color will vanish with the pure water I will no longer have to use to deceive your touch… to be free.
One day I will reborn and live like you never let me live before.
One day I will be okay.
And when that day comes, dear, I will be singing you my very last goodbye.
The corpse of who I used to be.
