Hemorrhage

a fatal hemorrhage
blood blood blood
hurt hurts the heart
but the patient poet
is still breathing, alive
blood dripping
draining her out
but she’s a fighter and so
she bleed words instead
the page is almost full
but still a hemorrhage of words
continuously pours out
from her jaded soul and broken heart

i wonder what you saw
when you loved me
and i wonder what you didn’t see
when you left me

the truth hurts,
i knew.

but i was wrong,
for her truth did not just hurt,
it destroyed.
yet somehow, she expected me
to smile through the destruction.

i demanded for the truth,
until the truth destroyed me.

Sometimes, you lie down alone and wonder whether you actually meant as much to her as you thought you did.

You contemplate whether she thinks of you when she can't sleep and dream at night and you hope that she misses you like the way you miss her.

You question the decisions you made and you begin to think deeply; could you have done things differently to make her stay?

You get angry - furious even, that she could be so selfish and inconsiderate to accept your love when she highly likely had no intentions of sticking around.

You’re a mess. You’re a vortex of emotions that words can’t even describe and the worst part is - even though you want to tell them how they made you feel, you can’t.

And that makes you feel pathetic.

Trust me, I know how it feels.