I left.

I slept by your side every morning

awakened by the distant chirping of the mockingbird.

I was younger then, very much Alive, well, and hidden. 

Hair tangled, sprawled legs and the soft sting of my bruises

kept me from moving. 

You open your eyes to me, half crusted from the night before

where, like most nights, you would drink yourself to sleep.

I loved you. 

you've hit me.

I loved you.

you've hurt me.

I loved you

you've taken it all back

I loved you

you've begged

I loved you 

you've cried

I loved you...

I left. 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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