A man’s view of why she died
He didn’t know she would take her own life
Bartered by Word Not Fists
A man’s view
He sits in the quiet,
hands heavy with memory,
eyes tracing the wallpaper
like it might peel back time.
He never raised a fist,
but his words had edges,
they cut through love
like wind on a frozen lake.
She stopped answering one day,
her silence spoke louder,
and guilt moved in beside him,
a shadow that would not sleep.
Now he bargains with ghosts,
he rewrites his apologies,
tries to trade regret
for something lighter.
The mirror tells him stories,
his own reflection on trial,
and he knows the hardest fight
was never won with fists.
He talks to her photograph,
a faded face that listens,
he says I never meant to hurt you,
but meaning never mends.
He lives now with silence,
the echo of what he broke,
for words can bleed a heart
long after bruises fade.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
In some ways, words are more abusive than physical harm. Physical harm is bad enough, but words can never be taken back and will never be forgotten. They keep coming up and cut every time they do.
Totally agree words to hurt more than the physical blows. Good job.