I sometimes think that you left me,
but I know it was me who left you.
My eyes and hands left your body long before
you walked out the door.
Your name left my lips months ago,
when I stopped calling you 'mine'.
My mind hasn't had the ghost of you,
because I'm better off with people I have a living love for.
And my heart,
as wicked and broken as it is--
that was something you never really had.
YOU ARE READING
R A G E
PoetryMy soul within rages like a sea--it crashes against this world like the waves ravage the shoreline.
