You let them in thinking,
“It’s okay this time, they will stay.”
They end up leaving.
But only after taking and taking.
Till what’s left of you,
Is an empty husk of the person you once were.
So you keep trying,
Till your heart becomes as dead the night.
As cold as the winters you hate,
Till there is a spark.
Only to discover that there is none.
The only thing you allow yourself to feel,
Is the faint resignation from within,
That you were always wrong,
And she was always right.