I have been through hell and back, with scars of proof,
just trying to make sense of what we had,
of what we were.
The invisible silence gives me no answers,
but it leaves bombs of questions exploding in my head.
I used so much energy putting my dedication into trusting you,
into allowing myself to loving you.
You began whispering "I love you" so quietly, so rarely,
it was becoming almost misheard,
untrue.
I warned you not to touch my stolen heart-
you were never going to find the light you sought in my dark soul.
You were so busy trying to escape out of my open doors,
trying to focus on the brighter side as if that was the only choice.
You did not hear me calling out, as I got trapped behind a door in my past.
I wish I could restore the love we once had,
the memories and forgotten dreams that became dead like my heart.
All the progress that we made,
one step further into you making me believe in a future,
then a thousand steps back into being doused in gasoline and set aflame.
To think of all the promises you made,
ensuring me that it was impossible for us to fail.
If there is no such thing as failure,
then what do you call the last of us?
