I thought of the memories we made;
Replaying them over and over again,
Figuring out where it went wrong.
Rewinding the scenes,
Seeing what could've been said;
What could've been done to keep you.
Now that I replay the scenes, though,
I realize that you weren't worth it;
You weren't worth my pain; my love.
I deserved better, and I see that now.
This short film is over. Done. Dead.
And for that, I'm thankful.
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
