It's not that I don't love you.
It's the sound I heard when I was 9, and My father slammed the front door so hard behind him, I swear to God the whole house shook. For the next 3 years, I saw my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think, she stopped breathing when he left. I think a part of her died, that he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty; just pieces of broken and shattered mess, cracked ribs or depression pills.
It's not that I don't love you,
It's all the blood on the sink, never fading away, no matter how much it's continuously washed, using anything. It's the night I spent 12 hours in the emergency room, waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her that he didn't love her anymore; that he didn't need her anymore. It's the crying, fluorescent lights, white sneakers and pale faces. It's the shaky breaths and the dark red blood.
So much blood.
It's not that I don't love you,
It's the time that I had to stay up with my bestfriend for 3 days straight, while she cried, shrieked and thew up in my bedroom floor because her boyfriend f*ked his ex. I could swear to God, she still has tear Streaks stained to her face. I think, that when you love someone, it never really goes away; somehow, someway, it's always going to be there.
It's not that I don't love you, It's the 6 weeks that we had a substitute in English, because our teacher was getting divorced, and couldn't handle getting out of bed. Sure, when she came back, she was smiling, but her hands shook so hard when she held her cup of coffee, you could see that something was broken inside, when you look into her eyes. Sparkling eyes with galaxies that once rush through them, lost its sparks. Cause she was broken inside, and I guess something's that break, cannot be fixed or couldn't need fixing. Nothing ever goes back to how it was, before. Nothing goes to normal; cause there's nothing normal in this world.
It's not that I don't love you, Hear that? *Rubatosis.*
No, it's not that I don't love you; it's that I do.
#moon poetry🌛.~
(~Re-written from an original writing.)
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