You are the knife I turn inside myself,
A constant ache, a whisper in the bone.
I try to heal, to place you on a shelf,
But memories resurface, overgrown.
Each thought of you, a twist, a sharper sting,
A self inflicted wound that will not mend.
I know I should let go, and let love sing,
But to this pain, I seem forever chained.
Perhaps I crave the torment and the strife,
A morbid comfort in familiar pain.
Or maybe I just cling to fading life,
And fear the freedom I could attain.
So I embrace the blade, the endless sting,
You are the knife, and I, it's offering.
YOU ARE READING
Words Best Left Unsaid
PoetryLet's be honest. Some words are better left unsaid, these..these are my words that shouldn't have been said. Some of these I know are not perfect, but they are mine. My thoughts and pain I have been though, I will not apologize for speaking my truth...
