I have been torn on whether or not to share writings that put the more vulnerable side of my mind and heart on display. Despite my fairly public presence, showing vulnerability or even details about myself is not something I enjoy. However, my darker writings are the ones I enjoy the most. So here we go.
My chest still burns for you,
a ghost who let me go mid-sentence.
You were here briefly,
but I carry you like a season
that never turned.
I wake at 3 a.m.,
my hands remembering you,
my lips wishing
for kisses that never come back.
It’s senseless
head and heart at war
You made leaving look effortless.
Why can’t I?
Is it a fracture in me,
or the cruelest kind of faith
that keeps me tethered?
I replay your glances,
the graze of your fingertips
like prayers unanswered
With others I am ice
untouchable,
untethered,
free.
But you,
I opened the door.
Broke down my walls.
I begged you to stay.
And maybe it’s tragic,
maybe it’s me,
that I’d take the ache
and call it love.
That I’d drink the poison
just to taste you again.
You made leaving look effortless.
Why can’t I?
I lie awake with the echo,
you move on with the silence.
I should’ve been colder,
I should’ve been wise,
but I wanted you close.
And so I’m left here,
pinned beneath memory,
searching for sense
in a story that never made any.
Sincerely, Amy Lee 