Light

The steps moving away from me were innocent

These fearful sidewalks were innocent

Every day you left with someone new on that bench, it was innocent

Yet within everything, you were not innocent.

The promises given to me

resemble a stopped clock

The final breath given before death

As if I receive it every day.

You asked about my trembling hands

I could not tell you about the notebooks written for you

You wondered about my pallor

I could not say that I dedicated every breath to you.

If I spat in your face, would you understand my wound

I am tired now of thinking about the memories you destroyed

If I touched you, would you feel the same emotions

Why does it not happen between us

Is it because you found its light, that darkness?