"does it hurt?"
he asked as he inhaled the ash from his gratifying stick
and exhaled all memories i never wanted to remember.
"does it hurt,
when my fingertips trace the freckles of some other one?
when my arms warm the winter of some other heart?
when my thoughts shelter the beauty of some other piece?"
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all i wanted to scream was
yes, it does.
it does hurt when my freckles are no longer mapped.
it does hurt when my winter land receives no sun;
it does hurt when my homeless love drowns in the ocean of loneliness.
it breaks every part of me and shatters me to the very ground you asked me to be yours.
yet,
as soon as the vulnerable letters try to glide over my tongue,
try to form combinations which could destroy you as much as i was,
the hand of your betrayal twisted it and turned my words into
a mere soft
"no"
just a no.
because,
you didn't deserve to know how broken i was.
you didn't deserve to laugh at it with your new lover.
you called me you favorite fairytale ;
then,
why did you tear my pages to write her book?
why did you tear away my fragile heart just to let her's beat?
why did you tear away my blanket of skin just to cover her body to escape the wind?
why did you.
why did you.
why. just why.
alas,
the most sinful question amongst it all was,
why did i let you?
