You were my savior, I thought, but I wasn't enough for you to save me.

You came and went, didn't give me a chance to save your fragrance to my memory. I haven't had given enough time to sniff it, but there is a song and some poems we shared together had engraved remains of you into my heart. I'm glad those remains exist because they could make me smile, save me from shoving the razor into my skin for a few minutes. Despite they cause little aches to remember sometimes. Don't worry they are nothing to the pain I felt before...

You weren't my savior, he wasn't my savior, too, were you?

No, no, you aren't and you weren't, not at all. 
At least for me.

You didn't push me into the water, so why should you save me from the first place? He rejected to pull me, so why should you do instead? Why should you fix a broken glass that somebody else has broken it and hurt your palmar while you have a new one between your hands?