I’ve told the story of us so many times
it no longer sounds like truth.
The words have wilted,
petals curling inward
from too much sun.
Our love did not fade;
it turned to a blade instead,
cutting through the hands
that once tried to hold it.
Now I move carefully,
even through kindness,
as if every touch
remembers the sting.
I still find pieces of you
in my silence,
sharp enough
to draw blood
from memory.
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Author:
OA Poetry (
Online) - Published: November 7th, 2025 04:58
- Comment from author about the poem: Written last night as part of a small poetry date.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Online)
Comments1
Funny how love can turn.
One minute it's rainbows, the next minute it's a restraining order.
Even the brightest colors can cast shadows when the light shifts. Love teaches us both.
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