Cartoon by: Kirk Roxel Arguta
Published by: Jeralaine G. Larios
Date Published: July 30, 2025
Time Published: 1:13 PM
Category: Poetry
Subject: Unintentional Betrayal and Self-Realization
I didn’t intend to lacerate you—
But my hands drip crimson guilt.
You stood there, unguarded,
and I fractured you.
without ever wielding a blade.
I mistook restraint for mercy.
I masked cowardice as compassion.
fed you half-truths,
then called it preservation.
I cloaked my fear in tenderness.
and wrapped silence
around a ticking fault line.
But I see now—
how every soft-footed step I took
sent tremors through your ribs.
I see it in the way
Your eyes ghost through me.
as if I’m nothing more
than a smudged reflection
in a mirror you regret keeping.
You reached out, wanting clarity—
I handed you riddles.
You asked for truth—
I gave it in shattered fragments.
fearing its full form
might reveal what I was too ashamed to face.
You offered sanctuary.
I fled.
You offered light.
I dimmed it.
calling it “too much”
when it only illuminated
everything I tried to bury.
I won’t beg for absolution.
I know the architecture of ruin
too intimately now.
I won’t pretend I wasn’t
the architect of yours.
Maybe I wasn’t born the villain—
but I became it.
in the hollow places between my choices.
In the echoes of things I never said.
In the warmth I withheld
when you needed fire.
So if you need a name
for your ache—let it be mine.
Not for redemption,
but because guilt
has already carved me hollow,
and wearing this name
feels like the only truth
I have left.
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