Dark coffee

If I think about it, I'm kind of like dark coffee, I'm hot water, profoundly brewed cocoa seeds and no sugar. 

I’m an unforgiving person but also someone who has forgiven their parents again and again, despite them not deserving it. I'm also someone who has forgiven people numerous times, to my saturation, until the kid in me, kneeled and asked me to stop. I’m also someone who has whispered to her embossed wounds to stay hidden. I've covered them with Band-Aids, with the thickest cloth you can find, with my skin. I’ve let those wounds melt my bones, I've let those wounds reach my enamel and let it chip. I’ve adorned the damage they did, with roses, with tulips, with daisies and sunflowers, with every possible flower you can imagine. I used my expensive perfume to make it smell beautiful, I added milk in this dark coffee, I made sure the tiny particles of fats and proteins in that milk reflects every colour they want it to reflect, I've burned myself into ashes for them to swallow without choking. I’ve loved people fiercely, I've peeled oranges, I've promised to change their grey skies to shades of pink, I've held hands and hugged, despite being a physical-touch-repellent, I've written love letters in their favourite font, I've loved them in their love languages, I tried to make sure that my love felt like abstractly drawn white doves in their dark blue lake but when the sun sets and the raging kid in me kneels down and asks for milk, I'm out of milk, all I have are these ashes.