Was it the way I acted that made us appear as a rotted book with torn pages and forgotten phrases during the fights and screams?
Was it what I said that gave you the mind of a beaten child with invisible bruises from being smacked in the face with words?
It's all the hurt without the love.

Was it my anger that caused me to fear leaving you and cling to lost hope again?
It's the sound of glass being thrown into a closet and breaking.
Was it the distance that made the letters you would write stop coming altogether?
Everyone is full to the brim with reasons why love doesn't work.
Inwardly I am lost to nothing, but waiting to crash and burn.

© urbanbearink