She still lingers but her fingers slip
It's fuzzy as I wake with a head banging
My nightmares are almost gone
Thoughts of her rarely come
Those days were dark like a haunted sleep
Just that it wasn't night left my head hanging
I left the shower on
Thoughts of her were welcome
Months passed I'm picking up my pieces
Love became hatred and hatred became numbness
Numb to what we had
A deletion necessary for a better me
She chose so I should choose myself too
Never to share my space
That part I locked away as redemption is lonely
Thoughts of who? I'm free
My bird took off and severed the branch
This branch was home for a while
A solace for my feet
A happy place
My happy place.
YOU ARE READING
I, Love, Her.
PoetryHow often do we want to defy the norm, only to become what we despise, this is poetry about a person who despite efforts to love differently, writing a different story into the fabric of life failed, not for a lack of effort of trying though. I hope...
