A Quiet Love

Our love was so loud
Cries of passion and rage
And the memories of it
Ring till the end of my days

Your hands so small
Your heart so fierce
I could not help but fall
From such lofty perch

Their hair so wild
Their voice so true
I could not help but fall
But not as with you

It’s a quiet love
With peaceful days
Yet I’ll always remember
The price I paid

This Small Apartment

I came back to this small apartment, and the ghosts clung to the walls. Memories of love, memories of anger, memories of us. A thick layer of regret on every surface.

I cut myself on the jagged shards of our traumas we both shoved carelessly into the corners of that place where years of unspoken yearning was finally realized.

I could find no wound. Yet, I bled and bled.

I feared the power of those ghosts in those first days after the end.
I raged against them in the months that followed.

Finally, finally, I exhausted tears and rage.
I spoke with those ghosts, in quiet tones as I began to make my peace.
I learned to love them and saw they loved me back.

Ours was not a love story, yet it was filled with love.
Ours was not a tragedy, yet it was filled with tears.

I hope you hate me, because I know it will be easier for you. I don’t have that luxury.

I will never be able to forget you, little one. I will carry you and the love we shared with me until the day I die like a scar fromĀ  navel to clavicle.

You will always be my greatest regret.
You will always be the mistake I had to make, yet never forgive myself for making.

Thank you for your love.
Thank you for your rage.
Thank you for showing me who I really was.
Thank you for teaching me my limits, at last.