The first thing people notice are his eyes.
They glitter like stars through unbroken glass,
But when I look into them, they shine
out of reach as they look down at the filth
that I am below his feet.
When he smiles, he outshines the sun.
But his words are as sharp as they are cold
with every insult he throws,
biting like the freezing wind in a storm.
And though his voice is a song,
it pierces my heart.
Slowly.
Rhythmically.
My every imperfection, insecurity, and flaw
rolls off his languid tongue like a song.
His arms were once a castle,
sturdy and strong,
but now they’re a prison I want to escape.
He used to be so gentle
when he held me close at night.
He used to be so warm
when his voice soothed my troubles.
There’s so many things used to be . . .
But now he no longer is.
He’s a shadow, a shell, a mask
of the man I carelessly offered my heart to.
I want it back.
I shed my doubts and insecurities
and put my armor on. We go to war
and our words are our weapons
and our fond memories are our shields.
And when I watch him leave,
I proudly hold my head high.
He is a masterpiece for the world to admire:
The one who got away, they’ll say.
But to me, he is someone I happily let go,
my own Dorian Gray.
**Find the featured image here.
