the empty house

i won’t say anything to you,
no, even though you probably deserve it.
you’re standing higher than me and
the only thing i can do is look up into
your not-so-brown eyes that hold
so much contempt for me at the same
time as holding so much love for me.
after the tears
all my swollen eyes can give you is this
look of despair they hold so elegantly.
you know it’ll always be there as long
as you are there to peer into them.
the best thing that you think you can do
is not look at me,
when you know that you have to.
you wish for the time when we could
talk to return so you can look at me again
with that love that your eyes hold
for none other than me.
keeping it there does nothing for you
except hurt your heart.
it hurts mine too.
and we know it’s too late.
it’s best that we part now
and forget all that we ever were
in the hopes of refreshing ourselves.
yes, it’s true and
i’m sorry.
i keep wishing it is a dream too,
my darling,
and that the warm morning will come again
when you peer down at me with those
not-so-brown eyes that hold so much love for me,
and when you kiss me with those soft lips
that caress mine so sweetly.
that would be the time when we would
make the most of the morning and
the lukewarm sheets.
that would be the time when we would
spend the most of the morning
holding each other.
it was the time i loved
as much as i loved your eyes
that held so much love for me at the same time
as they held so much contempt for me.
we exchanged parts of ourselves
and smiled, knowing that it would always be like this.
but we were wrong, so wrong, it hurts.
my darling, i love you,
and i fear i can never let go.
the sting your palm left on my cheek
hurts a lot less than the sting your silence
left on my heart.
if only we spoke our fears.
if only we weren’t so hopeful.
perhaps if we didn’t count on the future so much
we would have remembered that the present
was right in front of us.
i love you, my darling,
and i hope that you can forget me,
as much as i hope that i can forget you
and the pain i caused you.
i won’t say anything to you,
not because i don’t want to
but because i can’t.
simply because my mind won’t allow me.
i hate to say that i don’t need you anymore
with my eyes that only need escape now.
i will never forget your face,
my darling, however old i get.
and i will never forget those
not-so-brown eyes that held so much
contempt for me at the same time as they
held so much love for me.
i’ll try not to think about you so that i can
forget you, but it’s all just
broken dreams
and half-hearted promises.
i can only look to the indent you made
in our bed and my disordered memory
if i want to see anything of you.
i suppose this is the badly written epilogue,
my Love.