K. Barratt
He came to me as a weathered wish,
An old prayer, suddenly answered by the gods
When one has already forgotten about it.
A knock on the door, a crossing through
The threshold, and he was home,
Home back to me.
As if.
As if I had not walked away from
Such hope long ago. As if my
Life had not gone on, after the
Tears, the fears, the rummaging,
Picking my brain, asking, wondering
What had I done wrong, so bad,
To deserve a departure without
Goodbyes. And now he stood here,
Back for me, for us, for the life
We shared once, he said.
As if I cared.
As if I cared to relive the
Insecurity, the sweet poisonous words
That made me doubt my worth,
That truly convince me I should
Thank angels and devas for having
That man with me, in spite of it all,
The flaws, the blemishes of my soul,
Which surely brought him down and yet
He stayed with me -until he could
Take it no more, this abomination
Of a self and left.
That’s what I told myself using the
Words he had engraved in my mind.
And I believed, each and every one f them.
And when tears were not enough to
Let out the pain. I added the cuts,
The scratches, the endless night
Of hate in front of the mirror,
Locking my heart in darkness,
Praying, wishing, asking to
Please, someone, above or below,
To bring him back to me.
And here he is.
Except that I am not.
Not the I he knew before,
The feeble flower
Begging for drops of water,
Thankful beyond measure
For his mere, indifferent touch.
I gave him all my perfume.
He repaid with an icy, steely crush.
He extends his hand,
As if.
As if I know him, care for him,
Have a bond to share with him.
But I know him not.
And the me I am now invites him out
And closes the door.
Whomever he’s looking for
Doesn’t live here anymore.
Reblogged this on Whisper and the Roar.
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