Your words tore through me.
Slowly ripping through me.
I didn't feel it at first.
Adrenaline pumping through me at a rate faster than the speed of light.
I didn't feel it until you finished talking.
And those words were a punch and a kick, but the bullet came next.
You didn't fire the gun when you spoke or even when you finished.
No, the bullet came when you left.
It came out of nowhere, catching me off guard.
But that bullet shot at me in slow motion.
I felt it for the first month.
Then it went away, but it always comes back every once in a while.
Just to remind me that that wound will never fully heal.
And I'll always have a scar...