Still by Dona

Posted on December 24, 2015 by

0


It was a Tuesday when I looked into your eyes and betrayed what I have been deliberately trying to hide. I didn’t know that would be our last goodbye. I still didn’t hug you like I would want to.
I would never hug you like I would want to, it’s the thing with goodbyes.
Hugging you, I lose myself in you as all my wounds start to heal themselves and I’m good as new in a couple of minutes. What mistake did I commit by so unconditionally loving you?

I’m standing still at that cross road where you left me. I didn’t leave a bit further, I kept going in circles, revisiting all the places I could still find you in, falling back on echoes screaming of your absence.
Was it that easy to leave?

Why am I condemned of this spell where all my world is shattered and I never leave a trace worth revisiting? It hurts, and my skin was all in red as I tried to scrub you off my skin pores, it never worked, I don’t want you off, you’re never off. Yours was a scar of deep, dark, permanent ink, blood and dead cells.

I still dream of your eyes when they’re all in dead golden. I can easily resurrect you from my failed memories as they strangle me down. Failed as they might as well be a lie that I’m so stubbornly struggling to believe. The only true witness they happened was your eyes but now they’re all in dark shades that I never could grasp.

My pen had failed me, it broke at the edges of a poem that bled out of my skin pores, I need to write you I’m so broken I can no longer write.

I can’t smile.

My lips break at the curves and tears start streaming down, it hurts with every heart beat and heart is now synonymous with hurt, and there’s this undying spark of my soul that won’t just let me move on. It’s in the shudder of my bones for everything I know I can’t commit. I can’t walk away unbroken. I can’t pretend you didn’t matter.

I’ve spend everyday running home to the silence of my head and you, your arms holding me tight and telling me I should be stronger. I can’t, I’m just standing still, till you come back, and like the masochist I am, I have always thrived in your pain.

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