I should have told you how much I couldn't live without you, how much I loved you, how much you meant everything to me. You were my life, my existence, but I kept it to myself.
I should have made you feel all my pain, smashed your face with a hammer, scraped your skin, but I kept that to myself, too.
I should have asked you to run away with me, far from everyone, on that motorcycle, just you and me. I should have told you that you were hurting me since you didn't want to see it. See that you were destroying me, see that I was dying.
I should have poisoned you and spent the last day of your life with you, in my arms, as you had promised. Because I was the love of your life, just as you were mine.
And that day, I should have told you that nothing would ever be the same again, that even though I told you, I would never really forgive you. That my love was turning into hatred and that you disgusted me.
I should have told you that loving you is the most painful thing in the world. I should have left, but I stayed.
I stayed, my face empty, but you didn't see it, so I kept everything I should have said locked in this chest.
YOU ARE READING
The Ghost We Left Behind
PoetryIn a world where shadows intertwine with memories, my past has cast a heavy pall over my heart, now securely locked away in an unyielding chest. I wander aimlessly, searching for something elusive-an unrecognizable figure or a flicker of hope-but t...
