I kept it. The thing I value the most. Not my heart. Not my body. But my poetry. My stories.
I gave of my entire self openly and freely…except for my words.
Not because you weren’t worth it. Not because you didn’t deserve it. Rather because I already understood that you were irresponsible. Too irresponsible to be entrusted with what I value the most.
The words I’ve written for years upon end. The words that chronicle my life story. My deepest emotions. My inner thoughts.
I kept them from you because the investment was too risky.
Smart decision on my part given the way things have transpired between us.
But there is no bitterness here. No guilt. No anger. Yes, you have pieces of me that I will never be able to get back. Pieces of me that I am glad you have, because they will only empower you. Your writing. Your music.
But I still have what matters most to me. My words. And when you weigh what I’ve lost against what I still possess, there is absolutely no comparison.