You packed your bag.
Told me you were leaving.Β 
Not because you didn’t love me anymore,
But because I deserved better.
You didn’t give me the chance to choose you.
It was a battle I knew I’d lose but I still wanted to fight,
Fight for us, and everything we stood for.


You turned on your heel and walked.
I called out your name,
I felt it leave a stain on my heart.
It felt botched and robbed,
Of its very essence and ability to beat.
You said I deserved more than what was left,
I didn’t get to choose you,
I didn’t get to tell you I loved every once of what was left.

Instead, you left.
Me alone, broken and bleeding.
My whole world had been ripped from me.
I couldn’t move.
I crumbled onto the floor,
All I could do was cry.
And hoped that the hearts, our hearts, which connected the first time you spoke to me, would communicate.
I hoped they’d say all that was needed to mend what was broken and bring you home to me.
I hoped your heart was not at ease, wherever you were.

I planned to wait until your heart beat next to mine.
I planned to wait, until you saw that you belonged to me.
I planned to leave this vacant heart empty until the rightful owner came back to claim it as his.

And if he didn’t,
If he didn’t come back home,
If he didn’t come back home to me,
I planned to die of a broken heart.

Charlette WhiteΒ©, June 2017

23 thoughts on “Left

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