I was fighting a losing game.
I realize that now as I sit here with a cigarette in between my fingers, a cigarette that won't stop my constant thought of you.
You did not provoke a riot in my coming absence but instead admitted defeat.
You surrendered and with that, your determination ceased.
Are you not supposed to fight like hell for the ones you love?
For the thing's you want more than anything in this world?
I must have been mistaken to think you would fight for me, for us.
Love truly is farsighted.
From a distance your presence was all that I could ask for and the sun had even become shy with you.
But as the length between you and I lessened, you transformed into this whirlwind of an image and everything I once knew had blurred.
It took little time for my lips to release the words "I love you", "Good-bye" seemed to linger longer than I had planned.
Good-byes are so difficult to conjure up when the other soul has already gone without a word.
I've come to believe that everything I am and everything I will be, will not be worth the fight.
But just in case you decide I am worth the match against loneliness, I've left the light on so you may find your way back home.
Perhaps this deems me too forgiving to those who torture me.
YOU ARE READING
I Have More Than A Perfect Figure
Poetry"Strength, love, suffering and healing. The gritty surface of reality written down on every page. This is a heartfelt message to everyone who can relate to the tragedy of life experiences, trauma and relationships."
