Back, with a Limp

It wasn’t for love;
that much I know now.
Looking at your face,
an echo of what I was,
my pretenses falter.
The corners of your smile
still wrinkle with the same abandon;
your eyes, holes in my fabric.
It wasn’t…

It was for my defeat in you that I sang,
falling gloriously all the way
and climbing up again.
You were only an excuse for my loss,
a reason for shattering.
The void in me where you nestled
was older than us.
And for being so blind,
I seek forgiveness.
You did not earn
the wrath I sprung on you;
you were not worthy of the venom.

Glitter on, like I never happened.
Soak the life I dreamed in you,
and bask in my absence.
I continue limping,
lifting the shadow that I cast,
unfurling.
I have yet to fill
what I thought you had left.
And I have yet to name it.