The Garden of England

I want to create strings of words that allow my soul to breathe. I want to release all of my tortured memories.

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You still haunt my dreams, even decades later.

I can’t breathe, I can’t look away. That’s us.

You don’t love me, you’re sorry. Sad eyes, no tears.

I sit on my bed, lost, you’re nothing more than a traitor.

I hate her. How dare you. Our love was greater.

I’m older now, wiser now. No more over it now.

Married now. Happy now. Leave me the fuck alone now.

Ink-stained battles on my page; I just can't let it go. My mind is chaos and the darkness calls. Fuck that, no.

I write to forget. I write to feel. 

No more regret, was any of it real?

Just tell me, was any of it real?

I’m older now, wiser now. No more over it now.

Married now. Happy now. Leave me the fuck alone now.

My best friend then gone. You sentenced me to death like some kind of New York Don.

I find solace in the dance of words, it's time for a new dawn. I refuse to be your ethereal pawn.

I hate you. Forget you.

Our love was greater, you left right on cue. 

I’m older now, wiser now. No more over it now. 

Married now. Happy now. Leave me the fuck alone now.

I don’t love you anymore, goodbye now.

Finally, goodbye. And guess what? 

I didn’t die.