You left her, and she almost gave up. She almost wanted to just freely fall down to the ground and accept her demise. But she kept on telling herself, just hang in there, hang in there a little while longer, maybe then, she'll live to see a start of another season. And start anew.
So like an almost dead leaf with a thin wilting petiole for support attaching itself to the branch of a tree, she held on. She knew how it felt to be okay. She knew that one day, she would be okay again.
And then you came back.
She remembered how it was like to be loved by you. And she couldn't deny how much she still loved you. She was about to wipe the last set of tears off her cheeks but stopped. She used her arms instead to welcome you back in her life. She took the risk. She believed.
And realized later on that she should've known better than to let you love her again. Because it became another chance for you to hurt her again. To leave her again.
This time she let herself fall.
It was a fall that she might not survive.
A fall she didn't want to survive.
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Mediocrity
PoetryA collection of poetry and prose that border on mediocrity. Do not expect anything great here.
