I need to write this letter that I’ll never send
to get all my thoughts out of my head
and for you to understand
that am not ok with how you left it.
You severed my reached out hand
with words left unsaid,
which hurt just as much as a deliberate hit,
bruising my cheeks with streaks of red.
vanishing with no regrets,
as sudden as if you were dead,
and yet here I stand,
hoping to see your ghost again.
I know my heart will mend,
a new man will take my reached out hand
and care for these thoughts in my head.
that honesty is a gift
that tempers the madness of the broken hearted.
I felt like the discard pile,
like you were playing cards
striving only for the better hand,
throwing away the rejects
with a smug grin and satisfaction for the win,
apathetic that I am a person.
The memory of you
is like static on a TV,
as dynamic as a blank screen
with the drone of garbled electricity.
What once filled my imaginings
with vivid scenes of dancing
and cheesy chemistry
the day you vanished without telling me,
an unexplained severing
I call nothing short of cowardly.
I don’t often post more than one poem in a post, but I needed to get these out. Time to heal and get on with the weekend!