Tamara Stamenkovic
Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

Give me back everything

Give me back the fire you stole from my lips,
give me back every hug that kept your world from falling apart.
Every sigh, every climax our bodies shared,
all hidden smiles, loud tears, gentle whispers.
Give me everything back, all that’s spent on you,
and worn out by me.

Give me back the sense of freedom and happiness you have packed with you.
Look around you, somewhere in the drawer of forgotten things
lies my laugh, which you also took with you when you left.
Bring me back to sleepless nights where I still
thought about living with you, and now without you.
Every thought of my past, present, future,
my look when you turn around when you walk out the door.
Do you remember when you go through the things in your suitcase?
I’ve lost those looks since the door can’t open.
The others are closing.

Give me back everything you took from me.
I was torn to pieces when you found me,
but you only picked up your favorite pieces when you left.
Now I’m only part of that person,
left with broken pieces,
trying to keep them alive.
But the pieces you took occupied most of my space.
Now they are filled with a void, a hole,
just like me, scattered with passing thoughts of impenetrable situations.

You left only sighs and memories behind.
Memories of your stupid sweet habits, hard discussions,
the way you did everything you wanted.
The way you sang your favorite song,
the way your hair was tangled on a pillow,
the way you rest after an exhausting day
putting your head on my shoulder,
the way you wrap around me when I wander off.
The weight of your body remains,
the taste of your tongue, the touch of your fingers.

Every moment of waking up looking at you,
flashes of the most beautiful moments and a kiss to wake up.
Sometimes it’s so unique, just remembering
your existence, your laughter.
I still hear how it resonates in the hole
where my heart used to be.
The sound is the same, but the feeling kills.
And you took that with you, as an ordinary souvenir.
Your gaze is always in front of me, whatever I see.
Your voice is still burning in my ears,
whispering confessions of love and deception,
mumbling the last “goodbye” because it just doesn’t work.

At least you can give me back my time,
which turned out to be wrong.
Give me back the moments that made me live fulfilled,
with people, in solitude, in happiness, in sadness, and probably in everything in between.
Give me back every minute of my admiration for you and all that you are,
because I wanted to believe you were nothing but perfection.
Stay that way, at least for the end,
when you’ve already taken our beginning before it begins.

Leave a Reply