Whispers of Her

My heart beats for two—she who was bruised,
and I who’s going along with time,
blinking the seconds away with no regard
to the broken figure far back in the past.

How cruel I have grown to betray her,
I, whom she trusts the most.
Muscling through the storms with a smile
on my lips, mouthing I am alright.

How can I be when she’s stuck in the dark
on her own, waiting for me to face her.
How can I when I’m so eager to feel the light,
as if the pain wasn’t as agonizing as she cried from.

Just how heartless I have become to ignore her pleas,
letting myself bask under the sun’s rays.
And just how cold I have become to breathe out the days,
as if the heavy weight of what was isn't still trapped in my lungs.

My head is buried deep in the sand, where I avoid
the haunting whispers of her, watching from a distance,
“How can you pretend like nothing ever happened?”
“What about me?”

I am slowly losing her,
and myself along with each passing year.
So when I do and my heart starts beating for only one of us,
it needn’t beat at all.