deepundergroundpoetry.com
Tell Me You Don't Love Me
“I’m sorry.”
she says,
nervously fidgeting with the keys in her hand.
You sigh.
Remembering all of the great times,
you and her shared.
You lightly run your fingers through your hair,
remembering all of the intimate moments between you too.
“Please say something.”
She says reaching out to touch you but you flinch away.
You stand in silence.
“Just go.” You whisper,
holding back all of the emotion
that would otherwise be spilling out in gallons of tears.
“Tell me you don’t love me and I'll go.”
She said, her bottom lip quivering,
awaiting you answer.
“I...loved you.”
You manage to whisper and with that she left.
she says,
nervously fidgeting with the keys in her hand.
You sigh.
Remembering all of the great times,
you and her shared.
You lightly run your fingers through your hair,
remembering all of the intimate moments between you too.
“Please say something.”
She says reaching out to touch you but you flinch away.
You stand in silence.
“Just go.” You whisper,
holding back all of the emotion
that would otherwise be spilling out in gallons of tears.
“Tell me you don’t love me and I'll go.”
She said, her bottom lip quivering,
awaiting you answer.
“I...loved you.”
You manage to whisper and with that she left.
Published 28th May 2016
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28th May 2016 1:38pm
I loved you is a more gentlemanly response than I don't; however, both are a lie so what does being compassionate matter anyway?
We do what we feel is best to survive sometimes; it's the only way we learn.
Enjoyed the read, thanks for sharing.
We do what we feel is best to survive sometimes; it's the only way we learn.
Enjoyed the read, thanks for sharing.
