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THANK YOU; FOR BREAKING MY HEART

All it took was a single swipe. The acceleration of my heartbeat, the hitching of my breathe were both a testament of how much your words affected me but of course you wouldn't know. You never saw me. Not as I wanted you to. You see the curve of my breasts, the roundness of my butt, the fullness of my lips, the wetness of my intimate parts and all thought goes out the window.

Your touch is deceivingly gentle your wordscoated with all things sweet. My heart in your hands I failed to see the malice in your eyes, the possessiveness in your hands, the wicked curve to your lips. The strength in your hold. You held on so tightly that I broke Thank you for breaking me; isn't that a line from Sinead O'Connor? I never understood it before.

It used to sound like permission, albeit retroactive, to hurt someone. I get it now. Only a lover can wound so deep, cut to the very core. That level of trauma has to be an inside job.

You broke me and watched me bleed. You saw me fail to eat, fail to sleep, and you kept on the pressure with your lies and manipulations, increasing the level of cruelty as you went.

After all that, what can there be left underneath but the untouchable part of me, my soul, the girl you can never hurt. I can't be more raw than that, more exposed, more pure. So thank you, because as Sinead said, "now I have a strong, strong heart, thank you, thank you for breaking my heart."

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