Cracking walls

Prologue:
We got married when we were quite young, I was the ripe age of 20 and he was 31. We bought this house perched on the ocean shore; the house was grand, and elegant, so we named it “Forevermore”. Forevermore became the castle in which we encased our dreams, when we bought the house, he gave me sunflowers and a copy of the keys. The sound of the waves woke me up every morning while it was still dark outside at three, as I prepared his breakfast and lunchbox tiffin he stared at me lovingly. We wanted to have kids, so we tried every night, but nothing ever happened, and that was our plight, at first, we thought that the issue was with me—that Aphrodite gifted me my looks, and Venus refused to gift me my fertility. It was another morning, the ripe hour of three, but something in his eyes changed, love turned into daggers piercing right through me. Yet I stayed and prayed and maybe one day from this curse that has plagued us we will be free

Tossed around in the oceans
Oppressed by your stormy seas
Thrashed against your currents
I did it to catch a moment to breathe

I stood against the torrents and the whirlpools
That you hid inside your mind
I stayed and reglued
I longed to be by your side

As the storms grew
The clouds grew darker
Hope dwindled further and further down
But I still dreamed for a happily ever after

And then you would laugh
An hour of bright sun
But as the clouds crept in
I came undone

Each day I lied to my friends on calls
I hid the scars of the life I lived
I patched up the cracking walls
Brick by brick I rebuilt this life that you refused to call ours
I’d dedicate my life to it
But you’d break it in a matter of hours

“IM DAMAGED, I’M DAMAGED, CAN’T YOU SEE
GODDAMNIT WOMAN, CAN YOU GIVE ME A MOMENT TO BREATHE
DO YOU EVEN NOTICE HOW OLD AND TIRED I’VE GROWN
HOW ALL MY ASPIRATIONS I’VE THROWN
HOW I SLAVE FOR YOU IN THAT PIGEONHOLE OFFICE?”
But you didn’t notice how I slowly turned our bed into my hospice

I had already begun to grieve
The death of my youth, my truth—
The death of the time when I was naive
I had begun to mourn
The time when you looked at me
When you wouldn’t grieve that you ever met me

And what did I do to you?
Did I smother you with my hugs and your daily tea?
Did I poison you with the lunchbox that I cooked in the morning three—
Three hours before you woke up?
Did I dust too little?
Did the dirt clog your lungs up?

What more could you want from a heart that bleeds?
How many more prayers for you do I pray on my prayer beads?
Would it suffice if I gave up all my needs?
Could I ever give you the love—
The love that you need?