I wonder how much I’ve forgotten because it wasn’t a shop of horrors.
I wonder if it’s common to have a deep wanting for the one who gave you your many traumas.
I wonder how thrilling the darkness could be if I went back into it again.
I wonder how I can be a victim when I cultivated so much of the excitement.

I wish I could spend some nights with you without opening Pandora’s box.
I wish I could still know you and still love you, but I cannot.
I wish you hadn’t hurt me and hadn’t left me so destroyed.
I wish I could still share you my melancholy and feel so understood.

I feel heartbroken when I think of you as a terrified little boy.
I feel such grief that you were robbed of love before you had a choice.
I feel overcome with loss when I remember our ride or die ethos.
I feel regret that despite my efforts there was just no saving us.

I miss the times we walked along the streets of coloured leaves.
I miss we the way it was to sit in the silence and feel the beauty.
I miss the time we went up north and smiled in the cool of the water.
I miss the music we listened to when we drove, a pair of marauders.

I think the part that hurts the most is mourning it all without you.
I think if I could do it all again I wouldn’t choose to never know you.
I think the time alone I have is well spent when I reflect upon us.
I think I needed to learn from you and our time together, albeit unjust.

I listen to our music from the days we drove along riverside boulevards.
I listen to the words you used to tell me, ringing in my ears, pulling me apart.
I listen for the rev of your motorcycle and the freedom we together felt.
I listen for sounds of peace to come along and save me from myself.

I feel so sad though you’re a street away I can’t just come to see you.
I feel apprehensive when I’m out on the town I might happen upon you.
I feel estranged from the you that you were for yesterday you were a shadow of yourself.
I feel so angry all the time - unrelentingly - there’s nothing else.

I marvel at how often we laughed despite our loneliness and pain.
I marvel at how passionate we were about a love that wasn’t ok.
I marvel at how long it’s been since the memory of you made me cry.
I marvel at how damaged I am from a man who made me so high.