And like a knife you still cut so deep, that I have to pretend that I am asleep. I refused to make a sound, as this pain was much too deep. Like a miser, you always made me feel so cheap. As I lie in bed, and gently weep. I cry for the years that I wasted on you. I hunger for the time that you managed to accrue. And like a tattoo, you cannot come undone. Much too permanent, more visible when I'm in the sun. The faces around me, they can all see my sorrow. As I brush them under the rug, repress them again, for tomorrow. I pretend that they are fake, that they merely do not exist. Then I realize I am caught within the midst, of your torture and torment, you always seem to persist. Until I am crying out loud, begging to slit my wrists. I am much stronger than this, I trick myself into believing that I can prevail. Yet, whenever I try, my body feels so frail. Brittle are my bones, they have almost turned to dust. I often wonder whether our love was truly lust. Our bodies have started to rust, as love is now looked upon with disgust. Rarely discussed, a common issue of mistrust. I look into your eyes, hoping to see my path. But all I seem to see is your misplaced wrath. Somehow you still assume that I am the one to blame, when it was always you that established these pubescent games. I am no longer a child, I know wrong from right. But when it comes to you, it seems that I am stripped of my sight. Every left turn I am supposed to take, somehow turns into a right. My judgement has taken flight, and I am filled with nothing, if not fright. The heights that we ascended to, now seem meagre in retrospect. Now that I reflect, I can see your true defects. You were greedy and so vain. Neglectful, like a clown who has forgotten how to entertain. Somehow you refrained from leaving, and always remained by my side. I always listened to my heart, and my mind I had denied. Now that I see clearly, I know you are solely in my past. I simply view you as a symbol, of the lessons that I have surpassed.