Boiling Points and Picking Scabs

It, to him, was probably such an innocent thing. Just a few words of this or that and maybe I’d change the song. I know it was never meant to be blown out of proportion or taken out of context, but honestly! If I said words like that to you – you’d be miserable, licking your open wounds for days on end, reminded of the sting in my voice. Because. You were just compared to him. Not so cool, huh?

Instead it was reverse. Your words hit me like a bucket full of icy water. Left me speechless. I like that band. It reminds you that she also liked that band. There for I must be like her. Ugh. Your sensitivity clearly lacks. I don’t even have words of my own to express how many bruises you just poked at with sharp sticks.

I know my wrongs. I know what I did. I will not excuse nor justify the past. Or the bitter resentfulness that caused me to lose my senses and go tit for tat, blow for blow. The thing is… you made wrongs too. Your blows were just as powerful, just as stinging, and no matter what, the remnants lurk in dark corners of my mind.

This is why we started over. This is why we changed. This is why I consider your feelings in ALL things. We made declarations to ourselves and to each other. The past can not be repeated. It means death.

Yet. Here I am. Stewing over all of it. Tracing my fingers over every wrong. Fixated. Because. You said it.

One thought on “Boiling Points and Picking Scabs”

  1. Our Father who is in Heaven, bring healing to Goddess. Let your holy spirit bring comfort and ease the pain and wash it away, all the bad memories. Come in like sunshine after rain, Lord, and put the smile back in her precious heart, as only you can. Thank you, Lord. Amen.

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