sunsets after dark. | poetry collection

116. - 120.

116.
Perhaps it was my fault.
Maybe it wasn't.
A loud smack was heard. It stung.
crack.
He apologized.
Another angry argument.
crack.
Another one we didn't talk about.
He got on his knees and pleaded with me.
I had no choice to forgive him, I loved him.
One too many drinks.
crack.
It stung as it did the first time.
The last was no different.
Shattering glass fell apart.
Even with duck tape and glue.
It was still broken shattered glass.
~E, an apology doesn't heal open wounds.

117.
I believe I prefer being among strangers.
They have no clue who you are.
Not any rumors or assumptions.
Your personal issues.
Not even your name.
~E, blending in. Not making a sound.

118.
I felt like a little girl again.
One that couldn't be heard.
Or shouldn't.
When people spoke for her.
But never the words that she intended to say.
A mouse of some sort.
One that was never heard.
~E, when I can't speak for myself.

119.
There was a glass with poison in it in front of me.
I knew that it was poison,
and still drank it anyway.
~E, overthinking.

120.
I could never get myself to tell you that I hated you.
Even now. Over words on a page that I knew you wouldn't read.
I should've hated you for changing me so much in such a sort period of time.
Never able to love how I did with you.
~E, if you are reading this. I do hate you.