He always comes back,
reeking of regret and apology,
Hands unsteady and shaking.
Soft knocks on my door,
one..two..three,
I always pause for four,
bracing myself as I answer.
He looks the same,
carmel skin and strong jawed,
Silence forgotten in embrace,
yet intimacy is stale.
Flooding with tainted memories,
He pours out tears I can't catch,
broken promises I can't mend,
wishes I can't grant.
This is the last time..
please he breathes into my hair,
pleading for refuge.
I know he is seeking sanctuary,
but he's already left me in ruin.
He always comes back,
for that desecrated relic of a heart,
that he won't leave behind.