Closure

For over a year, there had been rumours about some unthinkable things about you. For the sake of temporary happiness, I brushed them off and chose to live in denial.

My reality came crashing down when, on one fateful day, she presented me the artifacts of your self-incrimination. I screamed at her, “PLEASE STOP THIS. I beg you. I can’t listen to this any further.” She didn’t yield because she stopped loving you long ago. Now, I’m beginning to be like her. Why is this happening to us? What have you done to us? Did I fail to love you enough?

When you told her, “What did I do to hurt her?”, I’m left wondering if death’s embrace might be gentler than love’s wounds.

All this time, I wasn’t looking at the camera, but your eyes, when you were taking pictures of me. Did you ever realize when I stopped looking into your eyes? Or were you so engrossed by your guilt that you never dared to look at my face?

I watched her take the passenger seat of your car. Wasn’t that reserved for someone else?

We made no blood-pact, and yet I find myself unable to move against you. Who am I to blame here?

She said she’ll confront you. I said, “What’s the point? This ain’t a courtroom where the golden rule is only asking the questions you already know the answers to.”

My past made me believe I’d grieve your death. Now you’ve made me grieve for the living.

Here I am, serving a life sentence without parole in the prison of my mind for your crimes. I know there’s only one thing that can save me - when I help the person whose heart you intended to break in the first place. In helping others, we shall help ourselves. That’s how I find my closure.