I let my fingers wander to the cuts in the wooden table,
like the wounds of our past ; slowly appearing back.
I take a sip from my tear stained glass of water,
just to swallow the memories,
and soon enough my vision is turning black..
When the sound of the refrigerator slowly dies out,
can you hear my heart-bleeding prayers aloud?
My eyes are bleeding in pain when I see the lights from the refrigerator flickering on and on again..
I see the wine-stained glass of yesterday’s night,
breaking into millions of pieces,
the sound of my trembling and crashed lips are very visible in these breaking cold winter seasons..
So was it the way you chose to be as a familiar presence,
lit as a lantern haunting against my doubting window?
Or your voice echoing through the kitchen,
turning off the warm candlelights in one single blow?
Or were it just your hands as a firm grip steadying my heart,
you were just so scared of tearing our bond apart?
I let my fingers bleed,
causing my heart to lose her own beat..
Causing my veins to be confused by the streaming of my frightful blood,
to the way of my wounded shoulders already painful from carrying their past fight..
So please tell me before I let myself hold onto my unnecessary guilt;
“Was it your heart that needed to be built.. without me?”