The 14th of February by Eunice Moral | Poem No. 17 (NPM2017)

Almost Tenderly (1)

The 14th of February

by Eunice Moral

You left me with a broken heart
that could never be mended
A gaping hole that can never be filled
A heart engulfed in coldness
that no amount of heat can thaw
A longing that will now forever be unrequited

Earlier that day I had this dead weight on my shoulders
There was this gnawing feeling I just can’t simply shake off
But I put on the mask of bravery, it was something I was accustomed
to wearing whenever I talk to you.
Each night before I go to sleep I remove the bravery mask
and cry myself to sleep, numbing the ever present pain.
Promise me no more crying you said while touching my cheeks.
I cannot promise that was my silent reply

Mom called that morning, she said it’s bad
From the scale of bad to death she was pretty euphemistic
It had always been bad, it never got better
So when she said it, I was confused by the worry in her voice
It couldn’t be what I was thinking, it just couldn’t be, I am not ready yet.
I will never be ready.

Room 202: I was standing just right outside the white door,
holding on to the useless doorknob who couldn’t support the heavy feeling in my chest
Brave Mask.
I opened the door with a smile but with evident worry in my eyes.
I immediately greeted you Happy Valentine’s day, an I love you and a peck on your left cheek
You said Happy Valentine’s and I love you too.
You held me by the nape a second too long
And between those labored breaths and that smile reserved for me, I knew it was time.
No. No. No.
Turmoil of emotion swirled inside me.
The Brave Mask slowly slipping off.

Your last breath was the one thing I wanted to erase in my head
It was etched there, vivid and all too painful to bear
You promised me a lot of things Papa
But you didn’t keep them
And here I am trying to tip toe at the wake you have left
Here I am trying to picture the future without you
Here I am watching my very heart break every single time.

They say things get easier
That I would learn to accept that you are gone
But what they don’t know is a part of me died with you
and I will never be whole ever again.

 

 

Check all my poems here. 

Almost Tenderly (1)

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