The Heart I Doomed
I saved you from myself—
from the wreckage of the storms underneath my skin,
from the dark that devours even light,
from the corpse that barely clings to life.
I set you free, my love—
like a dove from trembling hands,
watching feathers vanish into dawn,
while my soul bled quietly behind a smile.
But in saving you, I broke what was true,
for the cage was never you—
it was me, and I stayed behind its bars,
counting echoes that still whisper your name.
I doomed the heart that truly loved you,
chained it to memories I can’t unmake,
to the scent of rain on your fading skin,
to the ghost of warmth that still burns in the cold.
Now you live in peace, untouched by the ruin,
while I drown in the calm I built for you—
a martyr of my own mercy,
a savior turned sinner
for loving too deeply,
and letting go too late.
If I had known redemption
would taste like the last goodbye,
I would have chosen the fire,
burned gladly—
and let the world watch me die
loving you.
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