Poetry

I should’ve told You

When You came to Puff my Bruise
And Apply a Tad of Remedy,
I should’ve told You
You’re the One
Who Caused it in the First Place.

When You Asked Me,
With the Killer Smile, if I were Fine,
I should’ve told You,
You’ve No Right to Smother, nor Can You,
Once You Set the Forest on Fire.

When After All this While,
When it Still Hurts,
I should’ve told You
That I Regret not Confessing that
I should’ve told You!


Photo Credit: Unsplash

4 Comments

  1. I’m going through what you wrote. And I agree. After the hurt, the regrets. I don’t know anymore. It’s just a relief that there’s somebody out there who know exactly what I feel.

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