Hurt

You say I hurt myself,

By looking at the things you do,

As if the choice is mine alone,

To be broken by the view.

You say I shouldn’t linger,

On words that cut like glass,

But how can I turn away,

When the past won’t let me pass?

You tell me to stop looking,

At the things that tear me apart,

But how can I ignore the scars,

When they live inside my heart?

I know it’s easier to pretend,

That the pain is mine to claim,

But every look, every glance,

Feels like I’m calling out your name.

You say I hurt myself,

But it’s not my choice to see—

It’s the things you leave behind,

That still have a hold on me.

So tell me, what am I to do,

When the pieces you broke still fit?

How do I look away from the storm,

When your shadows still won’t quit?