it went boom
Searching through my bag, I find a list of my faults.
The faults you wrote up as a mirror for me to gaze microscopically on my many many imperfections.
Like a camera, this paper has captured your moment of hatred as a polaroid for me to hang onto as a keepsake of this ticking relationship.
My heart drops and a rage booms from my stomach and works it way up my body and explodes into my hand.
Lusting for your hurt to equal mine, I clench the keys that would've been yours and I curve them across your car creating a silver map of hurt.
You're quite right, overdramatics really is one of my faults.
I attach the list to your wipers and hope this umbrella can stop the rain flooding my face.