She Hoped Too Much That You Would Change

averie woodard
averie woodard

sometimes, I wonder

where do you hide
when you bleed?

amidst the puffed, swirling smoke
and bottles you broke,
the shattered glass
you smashed with your helmet
because there’s an anger
you can’t contain in silence
that you need to scream,
to shatter frustration into pieces,
by turning glass doors into scattered stars

and how in its supposed beauty,
you only saw how ugly
doubt can make us be.

where do you go when things go dim
because you let love go again?

she used to wait.
despite the fact
that at 26 – her gouty joints hurt,
she chose to walk with you,
climb mountains, swim seas
and spend her time listening
to how quickly you
could change your mind

she was young and believing
she believed you could change
and maybe, feel her a little more
but hoping too much has a huge price to pay
and it left her broken,
her pockets of hope,
empty
her purse of cheer, out of coins
and herself was turned into a bag
of broken ribs and bruised chest
and how many times,
she got up to chase you
too many times her knees
have been skinned
she was starting to think
scars
define how deep a person can love.

and how despite every big thing
she did,
you told her
you’re not prepared
to embrace the vastness
of strange seas
you told her, your boat
is not made for sailing
foreign territories
that you’ve grown too comfortable
to leave the shores
that you are weak
and yes, you are

you are as weak
as the strings
of worn out guitar
and no good music
can ever be conceived
from you
but nostalgia.

and how she wishes, her love
is made of old threads,
of tattered jeans
that she can rip it apart with bare hands
but no matter how much she tried,
the vision of you,
shines like the sun
and how it colors every morning
with so much sense
and how she could not
go on living ignoring
such brightness

she could no longer wallow
in such pretense.
so she let herself
be swallowed up
in the reality
that her hands
can only touch
you in distance
the way the sky kisses the sea
where the sun sinks to rest. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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