August 20th, 2021
I know. Don't worry, I think I have always known somewhere within my vacant veins, somewhere in the marrow of my bone, somewhere along the divots of my skin that still can recall the remnants of your voice. Still remembering the aura you tried so hard to pass off as soft. Your skin was always thicker than mine, and we both know that. You could always take it better than I could, and even more than I thought possible. But being out of breath doesn't last forever; I can't steady myself over time, and a break can only take me so far. I can't keep waiting at the finish line like you're going to be proud I reached the ribbon. It's been the end of the race for over a year now. We aren't teenagers, we aren't adults; we're in between "she's just naive" and "she should know better." And I'll never reach either one fully. But I will always wish it never happened. No matter how I felt then, no matter how I feel now. If you didn't see me reach the ribbon, you wouldn't have cut it. You could have kept the scissors hidden, but something about them needed to be seen. I guess that's just me wanting to relive it forever. Because it is hard to let go. Even if we weren't holding on tightly to begin with. I hope you take pride in the fact that you are the hardest thing I've had to let go of.
R.K.
YOU ARE READING
Holeheart
PoetryI am the forgiver. I am the destroyer. I'm not at fault, but I deserve to be. Poetry and Prose Volume V 2021 DISCONTINUED
