Leave, my love.
For it is only in your departure my soul can finally have its rest.
Stop coming back because I might forget how much pain you've given me—that your words were sharp enough to let me bleed and cry for help but no one bothered to reach out, to at least wipe away the tears from my lonely eyes.
Stop sending me texts. I might get confused of what you really want; is it me or just the mere thought of me filling up the gap inside your void.
So even if it's hard and tortuous, I want you out of my life forever because the amount of euphoria you're giving me also comes with greater amount of agony and it's killing me.
Leave and let me breathe.
Leave and let me live— even if living without you also means death of the love we never had, at least we both breathe.
At least we were able to save ourselves.
YOU ARE READING
POETRY THAT STAYS
ŞiirYou don't really love someone, not until they become the person behind of your poetries. When poetry speaks, it echoes through your soul, lingers in your heart, and dances in your dreams. And... it stays. I wrote poems enough for people to ask, "w...
