It’s in my soul—
Like flesh pierced
By the glass-shaped pain
Sharp and raw.

Nobody knows how to help

I try to remove them,
the shattered memories
Each sharp shard
Lacerating my insides,
Tearing my spirit,
Pain echoing in flesh.

A ****** mess, I get more hurt.

Same old same,
Everything I touch,
stained—
  overflowing emotions,
Red, heavy, thick
Intense—  

It’s a deeper wound.
Larger than itself.
It keeps cutting.
It keeps tearing.
My Faith.

You get second-hand
updates
Of the way their hair looks
Piecing together glimpses
Of a parallel life
You hope next time
Some mutual friend shares their face
On a random Sunday
On that photos app
they look happier.

The symptoms included:
Chest tightness, nauseas
Laboured breathing, heavy heart.
They say it’s a natural reaction
—I must be allergic—

To

     Bitter memories and regrets.

There is another timeline,
where we are home,
—after a lovely Sunday birthday dinner
of friends

We are thinking of hosting one next.
We agree everyone will love the dessert.
We complain about tomorrow—
Usual Monday’s sorrow
We do our nightly routine.
I ask you if you want some water,
for your bedside.

—Not in this cruel one, no.
Yet in some other, —kinder— it is.

We could never be.

You had a malice in you,
I couldn’t recognise in me.

We could never be.

The roots of your envy,
Started to grow stagnant,
In the depths of my being.

We could never be.

I had to understand.
I couldn’t change this fate.
I had to let go of my faith.

We could never be.

The endearing love,
The Christmas parties,
The summers to come.