She wanted you to let her leave. And you never wondered why. You overlooked everything. Even in summer, the trees were bare. Everyone is different. And she was so damaged, it hurt her to face the light. And no, her eyes hold nothing. The afternoon was gradually slipping into a memoir of bitter almonds.
And you overlooked everything. She trembled. She panicked. Hell rose in deep black waves and crashed upon her skin. You overlooked how pain oozed through the cracks. Or why she answered nothing. You bring up no ghosts from the past. Yet she wants to run somewhere far. She thought you different and she was so wrong. Like always. Like every time. And temperature hangs shimmering in her neglected tresses. Disappointment, you called her. But she was screaming on the inside all the while and you chose to ignore. As if red-ink scratches and nameless grades mattered more. As if they could save her from running blades down her wrists. You never wondered what made her want to leave, what made her brown knuckles so curiously pale. You didn’t care to see what the tiny redness of her mouth said. Right then she hated you. Right then she wanted to set fire to every line she ever wrote you. You will never know what it is to look in the mirror and see a monster. What it is to an anomaly. And even if she said, you will gift her indifference with knitted eyebrows.
You weren’t there when she needed you the most. And she hadn’t slept for two days. Flitting instead along shadows and ribboned heat. Collapsing. But you overlooked everything. As if she could ruin you exactly how you desire being ruined. But she’s left and there is no trail. Perhaps she wanted you to hate her. Perhaps you will never see her again.