You stand there, gaping at me,
Uttering…”I would’ve never guessed it could be you…”
No, never me.
Maybe that girl, who wears black polish, with purple roots
Who gives you death stares when you laugh loudly with your friends,
Or maybe that boy with the tick, who answers every question
With a cynical verse, caked in venom,
For having disrupted him from his book, and from hiding behind his hair:
But never me, not me whom you had known for years.
You stand there gaping at me, and mumble “How could it be you?”
“I would’ve never guess…”
This little fact might uproot your whole world.
Make you forget everything you have known.
Turn your world around, into something you’re not ready for.
So you walk out of my life.
(But not out of the life of your best friend, no you would never do that.)
You walk out of the life of this girl, this stranger, standing in front of you.
And I stand there, left without much to say, with “How could it be you?” running over and over and over in my head,
And tears streaking my cheeks over and over,
Tasting blood, as thorns sprout from my skin; under shadows of betrayal.