I've been locked out of my old life.
I left the door open a little,
like in the Chronicles of Narnia when Lucy
passes through the closet but leaves the door
unhinged a crack,
so she can see the light and find her way back.
But after I was gone, you came
and slammed the opening shut,
barred it up and threw away the keys,
as an attempt to purge your soul of me
you buried my body in the ground,
and left flowers at my tombstone,
wiped your hands clean of the dirt,
and walked home alone.
I'm here now to tell you
that the only thing you did
when you cut me out of the picture
Those sparkly still frames of happy moments
you burned and smashed them all,
and I wanted to tell you through the tear stains
that yes, I know it hurts now but give it time
and this rain will stop.
I know my face is something you long to erase without a trace,
but I'm not ashamed to admit that a kiss was more than a kiss
and when your lips touched mine
you imprinted yourself in my mind.
And I wish I could tell you
You're allowed to miss me and hate me and love me
but please, open the door,
if only a sliver so I can peak through.
Not a day goes by when I don't think of you,
and don't think it's because I'm obsessively psychotically in love with you;
I have become too jaded to be a romantic fool,
but yet, we shared a bed, a hope, a dream
and that doesn't disappear for me.
I wonder if you ever wonder about me,
would you'd be shocked if you saw me now,
holes in my ears, art inked upon my back,
and would I be surprised to see you,
or have you remained true
to the boy
Have you grown up, or are you still singing forever young,
and do you still believe in a thing called love?
Because the truth is
I'm not trying to come back as a form of attack
I'm not a raging ex-girlfriend
looking to spit in your face
or f*ck you up.
I just want to say,
I forgive you,
in the order, in case you are mulling over in your brain
some secret wrong you've done to me,
just like I have to you,
I want this river that runs with blood between us
to be clean.
But maybe that's too much
for me to ask.
And maybe, it's best for you to forget
but if I had died instead of left,
you would still put flowers on my grave,
so why does living have a harsher path to take?
I don't want your friendship, your love, but I'll accept your hate
if it's burning you, let me be the water,
for all I ask is that you peek through the slit in the door,
and acknowledge that you loved me before
and we're still here.