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You wrote me letters
that I read at night.
It kept me sane
while waiting for you
to stay alive.
I wore pastel blue
to match your eyes.
I gave you all my love
without asking questions.
You had your redemption
but I was mortified
with what you’ve done.
You wrote about her
in time, in doubt.
You thought it wouldn’t
reach me but it did
and it broke my heart
knowing that you could
do that to us.
I burnt all the letters
that could’ve seen
your redemption.
Because you broke my heart,
you broke it in two,
and it could never be put back
in the same way.
The narrative was clear
but my mind was timeless.
In my final hours,
you were always in my mind.
I spent my days explaining
your story to the world
when I could’ve been writing mine.
I want you to know
that I love you more than
what the world brought to light.
I ask you in my final hours
what shade of pink
will take me towards
the finish line.