The Past Took Her

I swore to you, love,
that my past was a grave I had buried,
that no ghost could rise from the dirt.
You asked me, “Is there anyone?”
And I looked into your trusting eyes,
and I said, “No one.”
Because I wanted to believe it,
because I wanted us
more than I feared the truth.

But the past is cruel,
it waits in the shadows, patient,
clawing at the edges of happiness,
knowing that love built on a lie
is only waiting to fall.

Now she is here.
the mistake I tried to erase,
the storm I thought had passed.
She looks at me,
smirks as if she’s always known,
whispers venom into our world,
swears I will never know peace,
not in your arms.

And you
you are standing there, breaking,
your hands trembling,
your love unraveling before my eyes.
“You should have told me.”
Your voice is hollow, tired.
I want to scream I was afraid,
I was selfish,
I didn’t want to lose you!
But the truth sounds empty
when spoken too late.

You love me,
God, I know you do.
But you love peace more.
You love yourself more.
And I can see it
the moment you let me go.
Not with words,
but with the silence
that stretches between us
like a canyon too wide to cross.

I reach for you,
beg, plead, swear I’ll fix it,
but you are already walking away,
already choosing the life
where I am just a lesson,
just a regret,
just another name that hurts to hear.

And I am left
with the wreckage of what was almost forever.
With the weight of my choices,
with the echo of what ifs
suffocating me like a noose.
I have lost.
Completely, utterly,
lost.

And the worst part?
I did it to myself.