Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2017 Rose Evans
Grey Mask
She was my first love,
someone I thought came from above.
Her arms made me feel alive,
filled the hole I have inside.

Her kiss was sweet and eager like fire,
it consumed me and filled my heart with desire.
She was my air and made me feel whole,
after empty lonely years jeering children stole.

I joined a cause and way of life,
to provide for her and be worthy,
not for respect or to stop pointless strife,
to be strong and make her happy.

I gave her everything I could with what I had,
jewelry, flowers, poetry, dates,
more than admitted to receiving from her family and previous mates,
affection, desire, and someone to care when she was sad.

Many times I had to leave,
to do my duty and earn my keep,
on an isolated ship and over vast seas,
with aching heart and restless sleep.

Weeks of silence from her constantly broke my heart,
I craved her words and attention,
I thought she too hated us being apart,
that she too missed touch's sweet sensation.

Many times she tried to end us,
said I wasn't what she wanted anymore,
that us staying in contact wasn't a must,
that she was busy and I was something she had to ignore.

I was blind and young,
thought I was at fault and to blame,
that she didn't mean the words that stung,
thought that mine and her feelings were the same.

I always convinced her to stay,
thought I could fix the hurt,
until that one horrid day,
she confessed to never loving me and thinking I was lower than dirt.

I was empty again and full of pain,
consumed with despair and flickering anger,
thought the loneliness would drive me insane,
and after a while I began to hate her.

Time has passed and I have healed,
we don't talk anymore,
no more attempting to revisit a time lost and sealed,
my heart is scarred and sore.

After all of it I thank her,
she showed me the worst I have felt,
what I can withstand and endure,
and I've learned from what I've been dealt.

I have what you can never buy,
a big and strong heart,
so I will survive,
no matter how many times it is torn apart.

Today I feel nothing for her,
she is silent and far away,
I thank her,
there are no more words left to say.
For a past love that left me bitter and reminded me to appreciate the sweet.
I'd never hurt myself but
sometimes I get the urge to cut open my face and disfigure it
Because I wonder if I lose all attachment to myself, I’ll finally be free.








If only it worked like that.
If you need to talk to someone, you can talk to me anytime--please don't self-harm <3

— The End —