The Onion

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
a poem about something very raw.

Submitted: May 12, 2015

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Submitted: May 12, 2015



I was happy, I had hope, the future was bright, I was alone, but I was happy with myself, happy in my own company, happy with the few friends I had in this new and foreign city, happy when I could Skype back home and talk in English, happy with my job and my colleagues, I was getting healthy, I was becoming a better person.

But you couldn’t have that.

You made me realise my emotions had become dulled, you said “open them up, feel again”

So I did, the light was blinding, but it felt good, oh so good, I had hardened myself so as not to be hurt again, maybe I was asking for it, I felt joy, I felt happiness, I felt love, so much love.

You said “I love you” you said “te quiero” you said “don’t leave me, don’t disappear”

So I stayed, I asked for a beautiful memory, I was asking for hope.

You said no, there will be no beautiful memories here, you commanded that I stayed.

If I had walked away I would have remained wonderful and mysterious and I would have lived forever with that love you gave me in my heart knowing one day I will have it again.

You didn’t want me to be happy, you didn’t want me to leave.

You told me you loved me too much.

The next day you didn’t love me anymore, but it was too late for me to leave, the memory forever tainted.

You could not understand why I was angry, why I was hurt.

You said that I knew it was nothing serious.

You did not want to give me an explanation, you brought the best out in me and then the worst but when you saw the worst it was too much.

You couldn’t even say sorry.

I want to believe that you are like an onion and once I peel back the layers of bad skin I will find something sweet and beautiful inside, perhaps you are rotten all the way through. I don’t know if I can hold back the tears while I peel this onion but curiousity always gets the better of me.

I am not permitted to talk to you now, you keep me there, I can see what is happening in your life, I wonder if you still have any interest in mine.

Why am I torturing myself?

I have a question, a question I know will determine what is inside your onion.

If you never heard from me again would you care?

But I am afraid to ask because I am afraid I already know the answer.

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