August 02, 2019  /  Amy Boukair

I stumbled across ancient messages today,
surrounding the demise of an old flame.
It’s an old cliché, but to this day for me, it’s true:
It’s not you, it’s me. I’m to blame.

There have been just a handful of men in my past
that have broken me down to ash.
But unlike the phoenix, who rises and soars,
all I can do is crash.

Time heals all wounds they say,
But I’m proof that it just isn’t true.
Cuts open and scar, and open and scar,
dividing my heart into two.

One part wants it all, to believe in real love,
the happily ever after.
Then the other half wakes, with its issues and shame,
and ensures that it’s all a disaster.

That half is the loudest, always has been,
the one that induces defeat.
It rattles and roars in my head if I try
anything that isn’t retreat.

So where does this leave me? I’m sure one would ask.
And you’d not be the only one.
I think about it, each and every day,
to the point where my thoughts overrun.

I’ve never been lonely, but I’ve felt alone,
to some that makes no sense.
I keep my own company, pretty darn well,
but I can never have silence.

When it’s quiet I think, and I mourn, and I grieve,
for a life I could have but won’t be.
I inspect, and I judge, I rehash, and resolve,
what it is that is really wrong with me.

I can’t trust, that’s for sure, I can’t share even more
who I am deep down, deep inside.
I can tell the story, that’s easy, it’s what I do best,
but how it felt, how I feel - that died.

It died when it happened, those parts of me did,
that could trust, or be open and share.
And that’s the foundation for any affair,
for two ones to turn into a pair.

I’ve tried to do better, to overcome my pain,
but only end up hurting others.
They deserve more than the scraps of what’s left of my life,
and are much better off with another.

My goal is to become more content with myself,
and the situation I’m currently in.
The scars will lighten, their traces will fade,
and I’ll get comfortable in my own skin.

Not today, or tomorrow, or any time soon,
for that’s a wish I’ve had all my years.
But perhaps in the future, where hopes and dreams live,
I can become stronger than my fears.

To those that I’ve hurt with this character flaw,
I wish I could call you by name.
Just know, that it’s true, from the depth of my soul,
It’s not you, it’s me. I’m to blame.

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