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