Sunday, 4 March 2012

Why moving on is the end...

Does it really matter now that you're gone? That your memory still haunts the road and the cars and the gardens.
The wind chokes my breath. I know that life is here with you but I must go. Or she will die.

Will she? She is too young to know love, hate or abandonment. She will know why you chose to do it.
What is her fault? None. I am the reason she is here. Her future rests in my hands.

Her future will always be determined by you, no matter where you are. With me or her. But my future for sure will be nothing but broken.
You are an old soul, a wise one. You can understand. You can survive and gather yourself. 

When you held my hands, you said you would die if I left you. I stayed. Now, my life rests in your hands. How will I survive?
I die everyday a bit, without you. I'd rather die beside her so she'd let me go. Guiltless.

What if it is too late? What if I am not there? What if you knew that you killed me?
I will not let you die. In you I live, with you I die too.