I’m so angry I let that slide,
all the issues I’d hide
to give you some time to bind the wounds that were still open wide.
I tried,
but your pride pushed us to separate spaces
and so quickly our union died.
Still, I stood by your side
fought past the judgements from loved ones who knew much more life than I.
Looking back, I wouldn’t have tried to save a thing.
I’d let the storms come and the tears flood,
let the damage remain.
In the midst of love, I placed myself in harm’s way.
and you convinced me to stay
in this cold bitter place.
I think you enjoyed the chase,
wanted someone you could tame.
I wanted more balance
and closure to calm the tides.
Instead, you move to the side
and watched the storm develop before our eyes.
Didn’t expect it to be me this time,
but I’ll take the hit if it means you survive.
To take a blow this hard,
I rehearsed it a hundred times.
I wish our love was better defined.
I wish you’d acknowledge how much
it’s taken to be this kind,
to fight the ballads that would play within my mind
and ignore the instincts that would’ve left you and I on separate sides.
Just imagine the person it would make,
years of putting out fires I didn’t create.
To be the casualty of a terror neither one of us could digest.
So I stayed silent and let your trauma ruin the rest.
To that child still screaming to be heard inside
when he creeps up from time,
pass on these words of mine.
When he comes to surface, don’t swallow the emotion, just let him be.
Let him sit and hear my pleads.
Don’t hide him away,
let him converse with me.
Tell him when I walked away, I stood against the pleas
to stay in a place that was no good for me.
Tell him how I struggle to forget the past,
regardless of the pain it brings.
Beyond the lavish walls and expensive things,
tell him how I fell in love with the man who saw no adoration in material things.
Ask him why he abandoned me.
Why he took for granted the time he had guaranteed.
It’s not beyond me to beg and plead,
but life is much too fragile to inhabit these places of grief,
to make homes of denial and disbelief.
To believe I would be the special case and everything would change for me.
Tell him how I miss those times when we were teens.
When we would sit and illustrate our dreams, piece by piece.
In this great future, we planned for no pain.
We didn’t plan for one to change, to break every promise and throw it all away
for a temporary fix,
for the stroke of the ego and minuscule gain.
Was it worth hurting me again?
Was it worth taking part in behaviors neither one of us could explain?
Regardless of the answers you give,
know that I don’t hate you, I never could.
I still love all the things we did,
all the laughs and cries, the hours we’d sit.
I’d do it all again, just to see that you the way I did.
