Bruises

I should’ve known the first time we played that game. You hit my arm, i hit you harder. I usually am the first one that breaks. I couldn’t stop the tears and you would laugh and say I lost. And i let the bruises bloom on my arm, or on my thigh. And you would look at it and smirk.

But then this time, the games weren’t physical anymore. You hurt my feelings and I hurt yours and we got a little satisfaction everytime the other cringes in pain.

only, I break.

Only, I end up in tears.

I should have stopped playing years ago. I knew I would always lose.

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