forgive myself, well that’s doubtful, but it’s a cause for relief.

time doesn’t heal. it never did. if anything i hate myself more, now that i hurt the person i loved the most. my heartbreak takes the form of my guilt. i am a useless friend, a selfish lover, a poisoned mind. all the dead seeds. nothing to sow. nothing to grow but anger that multiplies and feeds.

torn the feathers in midst of flight. an exhausted bird falls to its demise. dropping furiously with the wind. the spiral that ingests my righteous believes. i cannot live in parallels and antonyms. be a nice guy with a kind heart then make you hurt and bleed. i love and i hate to love. how can i possibly deal with the eruption of high and lows and remain sane? the unfair call. stripped and raw. picked and ripe. the split.

© simon whittle — from lovers’ tiff: a ballad

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.