Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Did you ever pray to call me mine?
Because, cara, I?
I don't recall how many times I have tried
To push us away
As if my mind ever decided how my love swayed
To save myself
Even if my trials failed
To lock my soul
Though still indulge in your tainted fouls
To pretend emotionless
When I was bleeding with silenced howls
I have attempted everything
I could
And after all
I have prayed for us to be one
Like icarus craving to be near the sun
I have prayed to be held in your arms, when worn
Protected by you from dusk till dawn
I have prayed for my hopes to come real
To engulf me in a warm blanket for many years
And so
I wonder
If your efforts were just as painfully hopeful in time
And
Did you ever pray to call me mine?
if there was a word
other than
goodbye
that meant
choosing myself instead of you

i would have used it
i hate that this
is what i need
i’m not happy

but i practiced forging
its signature
until no one could tell
the difference
You who taught me
that I can write such loving lines
only if it is you reading them

But now I ruin myself
because I know no matter
how many brutal lines I write

I will never get to see
your face light up
as you read them
I admit, you are no longer my muse,
nor the subject of my growing pains

But who am I to write to,
if not to you?

No heart dares to hold
such tenderness as yours

And no other soul can
understand my lines,
but yours

So tell me, love,
what must I do?
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
you might not
have been my first love
but you were the one
who hurt the most.
- i ache for you but i'm still bruised.

— The End —