Trauma

These thoughts in my poems,

I never intend to write,

But sometimes I tend to,

Incline over to the possibilities of my spineless mind,

Revisiting what's left behind of a traumatized past,

Buried, claimed over by my present too fast,

I could reach out but I didn't,

No I never let off even the slightest hints,

That could have caused us trouble,

Even though I lay here beneath the rubble,

Screaming, wondering, 

Searching, waiting,

For you to answer those questions,

That became the cause of this rift,

And made you forget the life that we once considered as a gift,

There was a lot we gave in,

But I had never thought, that loving you would be such a pain, my greatest sin!