A troubled heart in love.

The heart aches, the soul is in despair. The lips are scared to utter the words that could change everything. I’m afraid to let what l feel be known.

I don’t want to be the victim one last time and even if I have to watch Jayden go, so be it. I watch as he and Tasha have a good time. “It could have been you if only you had believed this time”, the voice in my head whispers . He sees me watching him and his eyes connects with mine. He doesn’t have to say the words, his eyes holds the accusing speech;”Was he not good enough? “

I look down because I hate what I’m feeling now; regret and pain.

I walk away before anyone notice I was even there. I didn’t have a choice; I never asked for this. I liked him so much. He wasn’t perfect but he was a great guy. I saw him as a great friend and I thought he did too.

Problem is, he was in love with me and I had no idea what it meant. As much as I tried, I didn’t get what it meant to love someone with your body and soul. To open up yourself to an individual to see all your desires, fears and flaws wasn’t easy less alone a wise thing to do. Once again like l always do when faced with a harder situation, I walked away. Before I could cross the to the other side of the road, I saw Jayden run towards me. I had two choices; stay and listen to what he had to say or pretend not to see him and cross. I waited despite the fact that I wanted to run, run so hard that I forgot everything, but no I stayed.
Running again, are you?”, he asked almost out of breath. He was right; I was running away and perhaps this time forever. All I knew was to run; never learnt how to fight or give in.

When my mum and dad were at each other throats, I run and made another family in school. When the seniors picked on me, I ran.

I know my running days were going to be over very soon but till then I could still run away from my reality now; Jayden.


By Abis Psyche

A young lady with a passion for anything and everything artsy. Painting with words is what I do best. The motive is not to create the perfect picture of emotions, thoughts and feelings. It is to appreciate those imperfect flaws and choices that will always make every story worth telling. My dream is that someday people will learn to tell their stories regardless. Stories heal, and they need to be heard.