What Was Left

February 13, 2008
I thought it would be different
Yet it wasn't the same
No sense of affection,
and you're the one to blame.
There wasn't a soft touch,
But rough hands to scorn.
To nurture the spirit of that unknown.
Bringing it to the surface,
Not to soothe but torture.
It created a fear.
Not the lust or need so yearned for.
A tortured soul is what you left.
Painful thoughts in the wake of your departure.
And a scared woman is what you breathed to life,
Into a world of paranoia.

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