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A Day in Poetry VIII

Tuesday, 18 April 2017

What am I to you?
This question is haunting my days, haunting my nights.
The days and the nights you spend away from me. 
While I can't help myself but think of you. 
While I can't help myself but wait for you to come home to me.

What am I to you? 
This question is spinning round and round in my head. 
I feel butterflies when you look me in the eyes. 
But do you feel anything when you dive into mine?
Do you want anything from me? 
Cause I would love to steal everything from you.

What am I to you?
Just flesh and bones?
Or do you feel anything when my docile body moves under your warm hands?
I swear my flesh is on fire when you touch it.
I swear my bones could break like glass, so fragile against your will. 
But is it it? Tangled bodies in an unmade bed, just for the night?

What am I to you?
I would give all I have to keep you.
I would forget all I know to only remember you.
I would change who I am to please you.
But you, what would you do for me?

What am I to you? 
This question, without any answer after all of those days.
This question that ask all the stupid girls I guess. 
This question that turns so many souls.
This question you won't answer.
Why? I better not think about it.

Yet here I am.
Longing for an answer.
Praying for a "everything" in response.
Trying not to think that it could be "nothing".
Begging my heart not to break.
To stand it, just a few minutes more.

For the first time I asked the question out loud.
Eyes in eyes.
Hand in hand.
But in a second you left it all.
You didn't say anything. 
Just avoided my gaze, as you always do when you see love in my eyes.
And in your silence, I found my answer.

What was it like to watch you leave?
I don't know. 
Maybe just like you went away with a piece of me.
Maybe just like seeing all the stars disappear forever of my sky.
Maybe just like hearing all the goodbyes I had heard in my life said all at once.


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