The UNSPOKEN

While I used to hop and skip toward the future,

now my feet drag on the concrete 

that used to be embellished in chalk drawings of dreams, 

and is now littered in broken promises. 

While I used to hold my dreams close to my chest, 

now my hands can’t even reach 

the end of the pipe on which those dreams dangle,

precariously threatening to break the thread of wistfulness that holds them so. 

While I used to look sharply to the next,

now my vision is blurry as 

the lights dim around the stage that should be shining, 

a play whose charm has forgotten its performance. 

O Future! 

What shame cometh impending? 

O Future! 

I ask myself: 

Wherefore art thou Future?

What do you see when you look at me?

On the surface, 

I am a different person,

a new character that was created according to your liking.

I conformed to your wants, 

your interests, 

your dreams.

You live life through me.

I am rarely ever seen, 

yet I am still here.

Beneath this facade,

is my reality.

I wish you could see me for who I once was.

The real me,

not the me that fulfills you.

The bright one that,

before,

radiated positivity for you when everything was dark.

The sweet one that,

before, 

showed you the way when you felt lost.

The graceful one that,

before,

provided for you and gave you hope in a gentle manner.

And yes,

these traits still live in your version of me.

But you took them and twisted them into your own weapon,

and you cut me into pieces,

turning me into something I was not with your sword.

Is your life

my life?

Is this destined to be

my reality…?

The color of your eyes when you told me no because 

your heart is cold, cold. 

The color of my lips when I froze because 

you were my oxygen. 

The color of my hands without your touch because 

you were my heat. 

The color of my tears because just a week before 

you had told me you loved me. 

Blue, blue. 

Is it painful to live in a heart that cold? 

I refuse to be blue because of you.