A/N: This is quite short. The first sentence of this story just randomly flew into my head. I had to write it a story. It demanded it. This is a one-shot. I own none of the characters mentioned. Please read and review.

I keep the lies you told me close to my heart- I guess they're the only thing you let me keep.

And I know that it wasn't a conscious choice. It couldn't have been. Because you loved me, and that was a conscious choice.

See? I keep them close.

But what really gets me, is how you fooled me. I never thought of myself as naive. But, I'm the most naïve person I know. When I told you about myself, it's like you were lost in my voice. And I loved it. I loved it more than anything. Because, you understood. You know what it's like to never be listened to, to never be seen. Your parents drank themselves into oblivion just like my mother. And it was ok, because we needed no one but ourselves.

Lie number two.

You promised me, in the dark of the night, that all you needed was me. All you needed to sustain yourself was the air that I drew through my lungs. And the poetic corniness was completely out of character, so I wrapped that lie right around my chest. So when I caught you throwing my compass in the dumpster, I kissed you instead of hitting you.

When you told me that I wasn't damaged goods, that scars were ok, that everyone had emotional baggage, and that it was ok that I wore mine under my sleeve, I kissed you.

When you asked me to help you with your homework, when you promised not to steal again, when Tracker called and you didn't scream, when you held me, I kissed you.

When my mother came over, when she slapped you, when I cried, when the blood itched to leave my veins, when I eyed the knife drawer longingly, when you said no, I kissed you.

And? And they were all lies.

You placed bandages on my bleeding heart. You wrapped the gauze around my soul. You held me when the tears were fire.

But I wasn't enough for you. You promised me, in the dark of night, that all you needed was the air that I breathed, and I bought the poetic corniness. I lived for it, and I rode on the high you built for me.

But the truth hurts, and it did set you free. They were all lies. You didn't only need me.

And when I tried to help you, when I tried to hold you, when I tried to bandage your heart, when I ran my finger down you cheek, when I tried to find a tear, you didn't kiss me.

When I told you I loved you, when you looked away, when you said the things you said, when I tucked you in, when I told you I loved you, you didn't kiss me.

When I did your homework, when I called Tracker, when I didn't scream, when I didn't cut myself, when I asked if you were ok, you didn't kiss me.

So you left, you left me in the arms of the fiery tears that failed to warm me. I sat and shivered on the cold linoleum floor of the kitchen that was once ours.

I tried so hard to rationalize it all. I tried so hard to pretend you had loved me. I tried to pretend you would come back. I tied to pretend that lies were only things you told yourself.

I tried not to die of it. I tried not to feel the pain with my blood. I tried to keep it in the tears. I tried so hard. Because you told me that you loved me too much for me to cut.

And I realized that it's never safe to take care of yourself because someone else value's you. Because you were a liar, and you didn't care.

Or if you did, it wasn't enough. And these words are selfish, and I don't care. Because, in the dark of the night, you did lie to me. You needed things for yourself, and you told me you needed only me.

So the lie is all I'm left with and I play it over in my head. I play with it, rewind the words, play them over. Change the context, mix the meanings, pretend that lies don't exist, and all words are true.

I whisper how I love you to the phone, but I never dial your number. I look at the knife drawer longingly and there is no one to tell me no. I have no one to kiss.

So I sit on the cold linoleum of the kitchen that was once ours, and I run the sharp blade across the skin you used to stroke. I watch as the blood pools through the slit, and the tears fail to fall.

I drip the blood on the floor, and I fail to see a reason to clean it up. I press the cuts with my fingers; there's never enough pain. I feel the slight relief of the outburst, but it's never enough.

I still have no one to kiss.

So I'm running the blade faster; I'm telling you my story. Do you hear the cuts?

One for every loving lie you doused upon my lips. I run them 'round my wrists.

The lines are getting deeper, I feel the price getting steeper. I can't find enough pain to erase it all.

I don't want you to feel guilty. I'm not doing this for you. It's just; you never should have lied to me.

They built me up, and you pushed me down. You never should have healed me, only to leave me broken on the floor of the kitchen that was once ours.

I loved you; I loved you so much. I put away the compass for you. I hauled myself out of that life for you. I wanted the scars to fade for you. I wanted it all for you.

And now that I am not allowed to want for you, I want only for myself. I want only to be painless.

My eyes are closing; I'm feeling peace. I hope I pass out. When my eyes shut, I only see you. When they are closed you smile at me. When they are closed you whisper: "I love you."

I try to not want that. I try to push it away. But, always a tear will fall. Always. So I will pull out the knife, I will whisper your name, I will run the blade across my skin. It isn't smooth anymore. There is no un-scarred area. I make the lines criss-cross, and I lose myself in the pattern.

So I realize you left me a gift. I realize you left me the memory of your lies. I realize you implanted the thought of love in my head. Perhaps you never meant to rip it away? But a tear will always fall, and the hope will always fail.

I hope I pass out. For without dreams, I don't remember you. I don't live your lies for those moments. I don't need to bleed. I don't feel. I don't feel the pain, I don't feel you.

But as my eyes crack (and they always do,) I wish you would only tell me one more lie, because I know I can't keep doing this.

Or maybe? Maybe I will pretend that all of your lies are the truth. Maybe I will tell myself the lie this time. Maybe it will be enough.