Stretch marks on a broken heart
This is what it is to fall apart
Pain they can not see
Loss they can not feel
Rapture within every single ordeal
It is no one’s fault,
but my own
If only I were a little bit older
Too senile to understand
Wrinkles, liver spots, sagging skin
What will it take for that to happen?
What will it take for me to forget my little girl’s face?
To loose the burden and to get replaced
Rosebuds don’t deserve to be plucked before their time
Torn apart and accompanied by wine
She never deserved this
Too nieve was she to understand the brutality of men
Their greed, their needs,
How they rip whiteness from innocent seeds
Oh, how I long to grow too old to be able to see this
Too old to be able to hear this
No one knows who she really was
No one knows that the black heart of a married man
Should be the one condemned
They only know rumors
They only know fables
Fears, weakened steps, dead grass outside the house’s steps
They don’t know her
No devils were on our paths
Only challenges and impossible tasks
Never should she have been mistaken for corrupt
But it’s too late
If only I hadn’t given up.
Author notes
4th Poem in inner demons series
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