I brought this on myself I know…
I begged the shadow from its depths, I held my ground to stand there, yet you crushed the heart I brought to show – you dragged me through your hatred, slow to speak, no talk, just blame, then compromise!? complicity!? Your ire carried simplicity as it fueled and fanned your angry flame, ashing out the torrid same – and again “I broke your heart”, you said. Yet how could I? For you I bled, yet you my love refused in kind! I’m blind!
I don’t know, but I brought this on myself…
So slow, this time away I walked, the city blackened itself to grey across its stoic cold. I hid my pain behind my hair, I cried for rain, a chance to bear the heavy weight upon my chest. My heart in pounding life, seemed death!
… then I heard the thunder, my anguish torn asunder, as loving rain my teardrops fed.
Upon the curb, collapsed in heap, my sobbing breath in gasps did weep, and there I stayed what seemed eternal. My ache and shutter denied this vernal granting gift of rain – yet slowly quelled my pain…
For as all life does push us on, I sat till every teardrop gone, oblivious to the world around, but close to soul and close to ground, I came to know I’d be all right. For this wasn’t love… and to the pending night
I brought this on myself, I’ve learned.
photography by Leanne Cole