I left you.
I don’t deny it.
I also don’t deny the spark that turned into an explosion that was our love.
But like all explosions, they leave damage.
I left you because I was selfish.
Because I was so close.
A wise woman once told me, “to love is to give a part of yourself.”
And frankly, I had a habit of giving everything.
I began to visualize the future I know we’d never have. A future that’d haunt me.
I began to fall deeper and deeper in love with you and I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want to fall for you so early.
But I did.
I wanted so bad to give you my love, but I also wanted to protect myself from heartbreak.. How selfish.
I left you.
I love you.
I don’t deny it.

I am trying to find the words that help make a day sane
Words that undo the torturous mishaps in my past
Words that provide a light in the dark
A crescent moon and a broken wick
I sit waiting for a dictionary to open up to me
Patiently my mind gathers tools to reassemble my broken thoughts, trampled heart and willingness to easily forgive those who have guided me into the oblivion
Lately I feel like a funeral, like I've died and no one cared to bury me
Perhaps I have reached the other side but am stuck in the doorway, reaching for the TV remote just to drown out the uncomfortable silence
I am less than words, undulating down to cigarette ashes
I wonder if a book feels as lost as I do if it hasn’t been touched in a long time
I have been touched but I have not been felt; not been held
My mind often wanders and lately I don't bother catching it
Perhaps it will find the words I have been looking for for years

the world forgave me,
but just one person,
myself

no house of God,
man of faith,
or divine scroll
preached my salvation

and with a moving rope
bruising my neck
I found no soul,
to aid my sinking self

but a million sad faces,
trapped in shadows
of what they called light

with the left as a right,
and the right as a left
that the center,
was but a dream

and with the scars of a past,
itching, and bleeding
peeling our own flesh,
beneath our broken nails,

an awareness estranged
trying to erase,
the slates of our distorted minds

to mark the graves,
of our lost souls
the cries, of our wounded hearts

I used to feel obligated to make my pain worse
So he would notice
And stop saying that
But I’m not a mirror
Reflecting the bad side of him
I’m not a mirror
I’m a person

I’m a sponge
Forgiving
Absorbing
Accepting
Infinite
Cleansing
Bigger on the inside

My past always finds
a way to drag me down
it sinks into my mind
during the worst times
why do you haunt me, always?
When I finally think
yeah, I'm over things,
a new memory appears
and hurts me.

I don't need a monologue about freeing love
I want to talk about the binding ones
The ones that leaves no bruises
But broken bones and torn muscles
Hidden
and the love limps
aches, shakes and longs to quit
To crawl away from this madness of heaven
But as I've said, binding.

It's either love or vengeance
No healing in between
Because love
is not a sickness and vengeance
My friend cannot be healed.