Love Poems & Poetry

Dear sir,

This is that letter I said I’d write for you.
“when the word comes spiraling down,
Just write it all down, Ill be listening”

So here I am
Keeping my promise while I mourn for you.

Do remember that time I brought you home to meet my family?
Of course you do,
You shined up your car, combed your hair and planted that stupid handsome grin
On your perfectly sculpted face.
My parents ADORED you calling you a ‘blessing in disguise’
And of course I had to agree.
Things were just peachy wern’t they dear?

But do you remember all those times,
where I had to sit alone and cry while you went to party with all your pretty friends?
I’d be nursing my bruises while you’d get wasted off your face.
And when you came home you had transformed from he devil to a tornado of temper tantrums and smoldering rage.
To be honest I could never decide which was worse.

I tried so hard to please you,
But I doubt you ever realised that.
I cried and cried over the bathtub,
never once were you of any comfort you simply bathed in my tears.
Telling me ” you’ll never leave someone as good as me’
The sad part was, I’d tend to agree.
My friends always told me I was mad to stay,
But the truth was I was afraid.
Afraid of being alone,
The silence.

But then one day your ‘love’ got out of hand didn’t it?
You came home from your pretty friends,
Your arm bleeding from where they peirced your skin like they always did,
And your pupils tiny like they always were as you unleached the tornado,
but this time was different wasn’t it dear?
This time the storm couldnt be reigned back in, so the fury built up.
It rained knifes and fists upon my weary skin.
I wore my blood and your bruises.
I cried tears of paid sorrow.
I screamed from neglect and heartache.
I shook with dispare and fatiuge,
And then there was nothing.
Nothing but black.

I awoke to a docter checking my heartrate on a brightly lit screen.
You were nowhere to be seen.
I called out for you but the docter just shook his head.
He told me you had one away for a very long time.
They were weaning you from the Meth you had for so long called your ‘pretty friends’
They told me I was free.
But I have no idea what freedom is.
So instead I write you this letter,
Perhaps it will help you mend.

From Me.

(4 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

Loading...

Trackback URI | Comments RSS