What have I done?
My legs tremble beneath me.
My arms lay paralyzed at my sides.
I want so badly to reach out to you and touch your cheek where I kissed it yesterday, or your shoulder where my head lay last night.
I want to retrace your smile and reenact your laughter.
Your face is stone cold now and the man staring back at me I do not recognize.
There is hatred beneath your gaze, fixated on me.
What have I done?
But I've been here with you before.
This dying inside comes naturally to me.
And here on the ground lying in a sea of should-have's, this is home.
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 9:39 AM UTC
What have I done?
My legs tremble beneath me.
My arms lay paralyzed at my sides.
I want so badly to reach out to you and touch your cheek where I kissed it yesterday, or your shoulder where my head lay last night.
I want to retrace your smile and reenact your laughter.
Your face is stone cold now and the man staring back at me I do not recognize.
There is hatred beneath your gaze, fixated on me.
What have I done?
But I've been here with you before.
This dying inside comes naturally to me.
And here on the ground lying in a sea of should-have's, this is home.
Request permission to use this poem