YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED

Climbing up these stairs, hands sagged, shoulders bent, image flashing and pictures playing.
All i can think about is you and everything you are to me, sad songs, cold nights, bedroom silence and cuddled up in hot sheets.
Your every smile that radiate through my heart as you walk slowly out the door, pink lips, brown eyes, dark brows and dark lash stare.
Images still flashing, thunder storms, loud screems, windows breaking with neighbours outside knocking, our first fight yet i was all cut up on my knees.
Walking out, you screemed goodbye and threw the heaviest rod at me with your last words; "i dont love you anymore".
I miss my step, but break my fall, still climbing, lost in the blackness but walking towards the faint light pouring through the door.
More images distract me, your soft lips, long thick hair, the culve of your hips, the whispers of your voice behind my ears, gosh! I can't stop.
I begged you, with all my heart i did. You cheated and i forgave, you say you love him more but i do my best, i gave my heart and you played golf with it.
Yet you kiss me like you mean it, you say you love me and keep me in your background. Now i hardly know how to feel about this.
There's something in the way you talk and it takes me all away so deep that i know i won't live without you.
I want you gone so i can heal, but how do the lifeless heal or recover from being dead.
Back in the dark, i reach for the door knob and give three clicks to unlock, seeing the city at night plays me more images.
I close my eyes, i do not want to remember but even then i smell you from behind, in front, above and beneath.
Standing at the edge, ignoring my senses, planning to put them all to an end, but your voice from behind me calls clear.
It is not memory playing tricks. "i'm so sorry" you say, "i can't be with you"... then you smile again and whisper my name as you turn around.
I smile back and put one foot off the edge and call your name one last time...
"You should have stayed"; is all i say and take my leap off the edge. The rushing wind blows through my hair and it all comes to its end. You should have stayed.