To my very own.

Dear Mine,

There’s immense gratitude in my heart for all of what you’ve done and said, my life-long debt to your kindness indeed remains intact. You need not pretend to be my own because I witnessed your trembling and hesitation. 

I cannot let you see me naked, undress my shields and reveal my horrors. I cannot hold you close to my heart, and let you hear it beating so fast, I can’t let another in, someone who isn’t ready to hold my fears from within.

You think you know, but you cannot understand. To you, I am just a her, to me you’re mine, my very own world, but I am another, to those outside, they see me differently, for them, I put on a laugh, my worldly mask, from them I blatantly hide.

Your eyes run through these words so fresh, so out and bold yet all so pure. But they will be old from when I wrote, I poured out my heart so that you can see,  that I’m though just a her, but I was your her to be.

In time,  I gathered all of mine, I took off with a hole in my chest where once my heart lied. You have it somewhere, somewhere around you, keep it safe, till you realize what I must be going through. 

I need to pull myself apart, to know my life and smile at last. For sure you’ve been immensely kind, but for how I felt you be mine, you’ve been a complete stranger to me. Your words raw with cold cruelty, your eyes so black, no path to the soul. I wish you grow from where you stand, I wish my heart teaches you to love. Till then my own, I bid farewell.

Just a Her.


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