I believe that once
you had the chance to be true to someone.
I feel that someone is not me.
I know that whatever aches in you
was a wound that you chose to forget,
that wound carries the name unfamiliar to me.
I cannot hold your promises
when my hands are full of doubts.
I try to etch my name on your heart.
I see you bleed
and drained of love.
I see my hands stained
with the sleep that you have lost.
Yet no brutality, no compassion
can make you mine.
This is not what love was supposed to be.