Poisoned Love…

I’ve never seen a train wreck or accident in real life.

I’ve never seen dog get hit by a car or a bird fly into a window.

Her scream, her pain, her sorrow were enough to last me for a lifetime. I would go the rest of my life trying to get the look on her face and the sound of her scream out of my head. I hated him but I loved him, I wanted him but she needed him. The knife came out of her jacket pocket so fast and seeing the blood on her hands, watching him fall to his knees and press his hand on her bulging stomach our love affair seemed so insignificant.

The music seemed to stop playing, people stopped laughing and talking and the world became black.

I wanted to go fall by his side and hold him while he held her, I wanted to cover his bloody hand with mine to let him know everything would be okay. But that was their space, her blood, his child’s blood, there was no room for me. My friends were grabbing me, trying to get me to leave. You don’t need to see this they said, this isn’t your fault they said. She’ll be alright they said… But there was too much blood and this was my fault. I should have never called him.

How do you live with some shit like this?

Was it selfish that all I could think about was how that child no longer made things complicated? I’d closed off my heart after him and once I heard his voice the ice broke with a quickness. Now… His world was broken.

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