Sick

I watch as is flows, a beautiful steady stream.

It trickles down.

Slow and steady as it brings a burning sensation to where it has been.

Why do I do this?

.

.

.

.

Because of you. 

Sick isn't it?

how you can hurt me, yet you didn't even mean to.

It all just comes so easily to you. 

Just as easily as the blood that flows in our bodies.

When I tell you how you break me with your words, I mean it.

Scars have formed.

They just remind me of what we use to have. 

Finally over the toxicity of us. 

I have moved on.