Courtesy of Rhys Wawia, Her., 2017
I wipe my eyes and wash my hands of you.
Blood soaked cloth, absorbing pain like liquid.
Us. I thought we would be infinite.
Your smile made my sun shine, and your absence brought the rain.
She was a hurricane to my mere puddle and in myself I drowned.
I was lost, so I guess she was found?
Maybe it was the distance. Too much for a bright eyed beauty to handle?
Or maybe it was the ten ton baggage weighing me down.
Her. It was her. She was the one who pointed out what she wanted and got it.
She was the one who gave you everything because I couldn’t.
So often I am the second choice, time and time again, with whomever I decide to hand
over my tattered little heart.
If I was given the chance, I could create fireworks in the sky and exhibit my art of soul to
the public for free.
Only the public is you, and you’ve always had an all access pass.