Cover Up

That tattoo doesn’t hide your scar. I was there when it was fresh. The wound, not the tattoo. That came after you found someone else to cover up the fact that “us” existed. I didn’t cause you to break but I may have had a hand in it. Im not perfect but you are just as far from it as the rest of us. Those blue contacts dont hide your hazel eyes. Your angels lies did well to cover up the shit you were pulling behind my back. Rather, putting in my back. I’ll soon use that same knife to scrape off all the make-up you’ve always worn. Although it suits you, after all, you’ve become a whore. I use the term as a personal sense to make sense of what you were turning in to. At least you can count on one hand. My story is a very sad and different one. At least I am free. At least you’re not who you used to be. At least I’ve got more time to be the person I want to be. Have you ever noticed that he never smiles? I like to imagine that you wear all the make-up to cover up more than just your lying eyes and the tattoos cover up more than the marring scars. But it could just be my dark fantasies. I understand my issues and I am mostly over it. Except when the slightest bit of your pitiful bull shit ruins my thoughts and nothing seems to fit they way they should. If only I could hide those feelings away and hope and pray that soon those thoughts will rot and decay until all that is left is a distant memory and a forgotten name.