Where I Am No Longer

To The Other Side I Am No Longer,
There have been nights, many of them. You’ve not known them and maybe you never will. It might have been pride or maturity that made me not drag you down with me when you sent me down these holes, but believe me, I want to see you hurt worse than I have. I remember that day when I talked to you about love, that it was like plucking out a heart, veins and all, and handing it over to the other party, hoping that they would keep it safe, hoping that in their moments of carelessness, they will at least fight to stop it from slipping. I thought you understood, so I let you in, and you walked all over with your muddy feet. When you could no longer stand the waters of your making, you walked out and left the door behind you wide open.
Had I been young, like I was yesterday, I would have come weeping and asking for another chance to prove my love to you. But I have grown up, and these tears now flow inwards. What vanity would it have been to beg again…? Even from a distance, I can see that you are yet to let go of the knife you stabbed me with countless times. You have made it your goal to have me see you with strange arms around you. Daggers, knives, weapons, love is war, there is blood in the water. There are sharks roaming. I’m hurting, but I smile because these tears will give you the power.
If only I could open the door for you to see what’s burning on this other side… If only you could see the rooms that you set on the fire, the blood that flows through these broken pipes, the breath and sighs that still remain in the depths of this chest… If only you could understand what I mean when I say that I have seen the end… I am only writing because I want to believe that it is all over. I had known that it would all fall apart at some point, but it seemed like every morning is a punctuation mark, only for the night to close the brackets and open them again tomorrow, over and over again. Loving you always came easy. Hating you now is really hard, but what else can I do when it is either you or me? What can I do when your glee is my pain? What can I do when finding you is losing myself? Aah, my self-esteem. How many times will I pick it from the ground? How many times will I dust myself and start walking again? How many times will I hurt before I believe that love indeed is war? Maybe I shouldn’t be angry at you but at myself. It was dumb of me to fall for you. It was dumb of me to believe your touch and your lips. I should have known that your laughter was nothing but daggers in waiting.
It was good knowing you, and I hope that someday when you meet this kind of death, you will remember me. For now, I will hurt, but one day I will walk away and love again. For now, you are in another love, but one day, you will fall in hurt, and then you’ll know that the night lasts for days when you walk alone. I wish there was something better to say, but my grief does not allow me to be kind. I desire to say I love you, but this wound is growing blacker with skin. It is here that it has to end, beloved.

Where I Am Now

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