I used to look at my walls,
thinking that was my writing.
But as time heals this heart
I see the words in your scrawl.

And when the monsters came
I thought it was my fault -
Like you said it was.
Me and my over-thinking, lingering.

But this darkness grows thin,
the truth seeps through,
like a weeping wound
from the folds of your heart.

All this time I was weak,
I tore myself apart.
Blind to the pieces
of your crumbling walls.

The monsters that come now,
Are from your Regrets
which haunt your soul,
staring through mirrored eyes.

Avoidance tears at our old wounds,
as you try to erase the intimacy shared.
Blanketing the memories in shadows,
so even the beauty twists into vulgarity.