Or did? If so, tell me why you stopped, tell me why you
don’t anymore. Tell me I am a storm cloud now. I don’t care what you tell me,
just don’t let the silence get too loud.
Photo by Freddy Castro on Unsplash
I caught his forearm while he was making his getaway. He looked back at where I was seated crossed-legged in the nook of my favorite cafe.
"Don't be a stranger." I choked out.
He managed to force a smile before turning to leave. He could never lie to me, it was one of the things I found endearing about him. It was only semi comforting to know that he still wouldn't.
But I wanted to tell him I loved him. But he already knew that. But it was already too late.
He walked out of the cafe, and out of my life, as dramatic as that sounds. A witness to this scene might think that I could've fought harder for our relationship, but only God knows how much I have already sacrificed. He couldn't give me the life I wanted, and even though I was adamant that I didn't want that life without him in it, I knew that my claims weren't true. Why had I bothered lying? He had known even before I did.
What an appropriate season for it to all end, I thought as I stared out of the windows into the streets in the autumn. The sky was overcast, the leaves were letting go of the trees they had called home for months and months. The closed local jewellers from across the street mocked me, they had gone out of business the month before. The diamonds that once adorned the display all gone. Oh silly girl, didn't you sense the foreboding?
Even though there was no point in me imagining how things would be if it had turned out differently, I did it anyway. Sigh, here comes the hard part.
I really did not want to post this piece because I'm scared; of what I don't even know. I might be able to attribute it to my cringing when I think about how cliche it is. Mostly I think it's too personal but I thought fuck it, actually hahaha. All poems are "too personal" anyway.
my heart has been shatteredby many before younot that it matteredonce more you made it fullmy mind is a room,in which you paceso I can’t really saythat it’s been awhilesince I’ve seen your facemy lips hold onto an apologyI will not tell youif you saw me with hostilityknow I was hurting toomy hands wrote this letternot that it will make things betterbut this pen is good companyof a heart that is now empty."my parts miss your parts"
Really quite the unoriginal thought and I know I can do loads better than this piece but you know the heart writes what it wants, hahaha. Here goes;
You, to me, are Friday nights.
The city lights.
You, got under my skin.
The alcohol in my bloodstream.
You, made me dizzy
After all, you were my whiskey.
You, asked me to dance.
As if we ever stood a chance.
You, are bad for me.
You were bad to me.
You, oh how predictable,
Of course I would fall.
You were my drunken nights,
You were my armoured knight
but it was me you would fight.
You, were a hangover.
It’s been a while and I’m still hung over.
