I once told you that I never could tell everything about me. You must have thought I was joking with you. Still, you said you would love me regardless.
When I told you again, you look at me and said that it didn't matter. That you would love me with or without all the details.
The last time I told you this you still promised to love me but you made it your mission to learn them one at a time.
When I did give up and tell you some of them you began to judge me. Eventually, you stopped loving me. These secrets were knife wounds in you that severed your love for me.
The last time you asked me why I wouldn't tell you everything. I realized you never did really love me in the end.
I can never tell you everything about me and next time I won't.
It is far easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.
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Thoughts of a Phantom
PoesíaA collection of short pieces created by me about my life. They are styled in a similar format as spoken word poems. Some of the topics are a reference to my own experiences while some are a tribute to others who never got to tell their own. Possible...
