And I Was Wrong

And I Was Wrong

I knew I was wrong. You told me I was wrong.

They all told me I was wrong, but me,

I didn’t want to believe them.

I didn’t want to rely on you, like oxygen, like water for a fish—

Like love for a human being.

Like a drug, heroin, that I couldn’t control, if you weren’t there,

Then I wasn’t, either.

Like a sculptor with the hands of the equivalent of a god, who could no longer sculpt a masterpiece,

Like a writer with writer’s block that couldn’t seem to put their emotions in words anymore,

I was all the least to say— broken.

And she looks around the room, everyone knows the truth,

They see her face and they see into the hole in the center of her chest where her soul should be.

And she doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t know how to hide,

She doesn’t know how to do…anything, without you.

And as the she turns into me, the world seems to slow,

Everything clarifies,

Yet nothing still makes sense.

All she knows is—

…All I know is that you loved her.

And you loved me.

But sharing you with someone else isn’t enough,

It isn’t enough to know that I’m expendable, that the emotions that I had once certified your love with is simply gone.

Why do you have to leave?

Why am I so hurt?

Why can’t you only love me?

Why am I broken?

Broken…broken…broken.

Broken, she says, she hollers, she whispers. One word.

She wants it to stop, she wasn’t everything to stop,

She wants herself to stop.

Let it go. Let everything go,

Go numb and dull like you’ve been for so long;

You don’t belong, you never did, don’t try to act,

Like you do now.

And the silence is still yet to be fulfilled.

She,

I,

We fade.

Fade away, without you, without us together, without me ever being whole again,

I fade into the shadows, thinking for once that maybe;

Once, I could ever be loved again.

And like always:

I was wrong.