Just the two of us

you once told me to love you

You once told me to interwine my hand with yours, fill the empty void between your fingers, and today, you are backing off by removing your fingers.

You once told me to kiss you deeply, slow burn on tongues, with passion annihilating our bodies, now you are refusing to stare into my eyes.

You once told me to weave and stitch poetries on your bruised wrists, and now you are letting yourself bleed, making sure to remove every line of those poetries from every inch of your body.

You once told me to fill the love inside your bloodstream. Today, you are sitting on the curb with eyes nearly shut, eyebrows furrowed, pushing the love out of your veins.

You once told me to fill your life with glitters and then to not.
You once told me to write about you in my poems and then to not.
You once told me to love you, and then to not.
~t