Bitter Mercy

I wear each day like a tattered shroud,

my life unraveling in slow, relentless decay—

a ceaseless ache, a fading color

in a world once vibrant but now marred by pain.

Yet you linger near,

clinging to the ghost of what we once were,

whispering, “Stay,”

your hearts heavy with the fear of losing me,

your love a tether pulling me back

from the precipice of my own despair.

Every breath is a battleground,

each moment a war between a yearning for release

and the weight of your tears—

for in the quiet corners of my soul,

dying whispers of mercy call to me,

a promise of silence from this endless agony.

But I remain,

not for the hope of renewal,

nor for the false light of healing,

but for the aching bond we share—

the bittersweet sorrow that

my absence would shatter your fragile world,

leaving you alone with the echoes of goodbye.

I am caught in this cruel dance,

where my own despair battles your tender sorrow,

and though death beckons as a gentle reprieve,

I hesitate, bound by love

that refuses to let the final curtain fall.