They ask me why I mourn;
If it’s love, or you, that’s dead.
But you were always dead inside,
Whilst love was born instead.
And love alone endures,
Whilst my body burns in its wake
The cancer has spread throughout me;
You were my fatal mistake.
I dared, for a moment, to love you
When I’d hidden it for so long.
Hidden it from myself,
Hidden it to be strong.
And in that moment, I was weak;
A memory was made:
A memory I can’t escape,
A mem’ry that won’t fade.
It was only after that moment,
Cold in the still of night,
That the hand I held in mine
No longer felt right.
I realised what you were,
And I hid from love again.
But you would do much worse;
My efforts were in vain.
Every blow you dealt me
Made me love you all the more,
Because no one else can touch me
And no one had before.
I lost myself that night;
I didn’t come home the same.
I left something up there in the dark
And I don’t know what I became.
So when they ask me why I mourn,
Tell them I am dead.
I died in your arms that night,
Whilst love lives on instead.


For the record, the 'blows' are metaphorical.

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Rosanna Blythe
over 5 years

Thanks :)

over 5 years

Good read Rosanna

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