Fragments mend

A shattered spirit

How many days you made me wait?

How many tears you made me shed?

How many speeches you made me believe,

for you to shatter me and then leave?

For how many days will I swallow the pain,

wanting to scream and claim,

but in vain,

pain is seizing me,

arising in me,

crawling back to the surface.

Crashing down my boundaries,

fracturing me.

How many times will I call out your name?

How many times will I desire your touch?

How many times will I cry myself to sleep?

You left me alone with nothing but my weep.

Your laugh is still echoing in my head, following me like a shadow.

I'm feeling a constant void,

a constant emptiness.

Like nothing could ever fill me again,

like hearing giggles became strange to me,

unknown to my auditory.

My sobs are smashing against every corner of my body,

trailing their way down my spine,

I'm shaking,

screaming,

gasping for air,

no cure seems to be found there.

How many wounds will I bleed?

reminding me of your name and yearning,

reminding me of every tear I dropped for you,

reminding me of how self-centered you are.

How many souvenirs will I handle?

I'm travelled by a wave of shivers,

a wave of chills rolling over my skin,

a wave that brought back so many memories to my shores.

Memories that were too good to be true,

memories that I believed were buried deeply inside my heart,

lost forever.

Memories following me everywhere I go,

that became part of myself,

part of my existence,

more myself than I am.

How many injuries will I endure?

How many breakage will I support?

How many sorrows will I hold?

I swear to you that I'm not that bold.

If living with the pain is all I got from you,

if living with knowing that I won't be able to have you,

any part of you,

even your worst parts became my favorites.

If living in a world where I can't call you "mine",

where we are only allowed of being appeasing to each other's eyes.

If living in a world where I will have agony as my only friend,

then I prefer death.

How many days will I handle it?

it doesn't bother me anymore.

Walking through the drought,

In my field of view a blurred horizon.

A persistent pain as my companion,

feels like wandering for an eternity.

I'm slowly zooming out of everything,

slowly being reduced to pieces,

I've suffered,

endlessly,

until nothing is left of me but mites.