I told you a story, from my soul it had come,
not from my mind, but my heart, now numb.
Every word that was typed, every thought portrayed
given to you, now are just sad hollowed braids.
How my heart bled, withered, and shook
when my words didn't make you look.
Instead now I sit, alone once again.
Free to live in my mind, wanting, longing, trying to reach back in.
Can I take this chance, do I try to once more?
Or do I just stop feeling, not loved, yet being sore.
Words of desperation, broken ones of need,
call within my being, softly on the breeze.
I type them here before you, a witness for the world,
a long and wordy poem not knowing what will unfurl.
Wanting you is painful, needed you runs deep
and then I look around, I'm not the only one who weeps.
My eyes though they were curtained, covered with a viel,
its cloth it has been lifted, I see the others wail.
No one else had realized, or I just refused to see
something I just learned, you were toying with me.
So now I write a poem, a letter long and loud
with the words of many, beating on my brow.
Why did you toy with us, bring us pleasure then our pain,
were we a passing fancy, a game that keeps you sane?
Is your heart so dark that words just flow from you?
Well know this my loved one, the words I spoke were true.
So though we were just your playthings, a way to pass the time,
our hearts will find another, and yours will be denied.
This is not a warning, a letter full of fluff,
but this my mate, my husband, shows I've had enough.
Your blinded by convictions hidden in your eyes,
and so you do not see us, when we say goodbye.