frail.
i left home with a heavy heart,
because I shouldn't have been there from the start.
and when he simply lets me be
i paved my way to the empty streets.
the void instantly clinged to me,
and i let myself be strained
since i asked for it.
with every step of the way,
the night's chill draws my feet colder
than mount everest.
i tried to picture myself in a cozy cottage
with a hot mug of coffee cupped to my hands,
and i'm sitting near the fireplace
while watching the embers fly.
it gave me a kind of comfort,
but my heart remains heavy inside.
i thought of the warmest place
to somehow shun this freezing pace
but all i can picture now
was our home and his wistful gaze,
telling me that i should've stayed.
overtime i pay the consequence,
but my heart and soul
could just never feign.
it yearns for him still and
with every tick, i drown in guilt.
because i left home with a heavy heart,
it's much colder as we are apart.
when i stumbled upon a friend of mine,
i dropped the act of nonchalance
my friend says, "the door is still open"
but i just couldn't turn around.
i just couldn't let my guard down.
and my pride became my stance
while missing him in every chance.
yet my friend insisted
telling me to go back in his arms
since the door is still open
and it's cold outside.
i stared at the abyss for a long time.
i mused, "isn't too impudent of me to go back?",
"he simply lets me be,
maybe he would've want to break free",
"maybe, he'll be better off without me".
my pride became my stance
while missing him in every chance.
i left home with a heavy heart,
because i shouldn't have been there from the start.
yet as fast as i left, is as fast as i sprint
my way back to home;
back to where i'm supposed to be.
YOU ARE READING
Wild Cards
Poetry"Wild Cards" is a collection of poems and proses for all of the uncertainties we'll have to gamble through after taking the risk and giving chance to open ourselves to something new.
