Dear wounded soul...
My shield has fallen, he managed to get through. The wall I built with bitterness and disappointments, he broke it with his words, his looks, his "I love you."
He is now in that dark, sinister hole, tainted by corpses and blood. A room so dark that even I cannot easily navigate it, I who am the architect.
He dared.
I am aware of leading him in a little, but I don't know if he will make it. When he enters and can no longer see anything, when he can no longer see my eyes to guide him, what will happen?
A foolish question to which I know the answer all too well. He will surely fall into one of the traps I set to protect myself. Or he will see my shadow and flee, or he will simply regain his senses and turn back.
But no matter how far he goes, I know he will eventually leave... even if he promised to stay with me in this gloomy place, he will eventually lose patience; he wasn't the only one to make promises, after all.
Even though I hope from the depths of my soul that he stays and changes the color of this place, I also know from the depths of that same soul that he will eventually leave.
He will eventually leave this sinister, gloomy, and dark place that is my heart.
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...
