Inheritance of the Idea of Love

(Great Expectations)

The perspective of Estella- pained by someone else’s wound

Her veil, and her, quite a sight
That house covered in white
Turning grey, the mold on the cake,
As her hair
The color of despair
Over something, or someone,
Her unrequited love

A ghost of the bride she meant to be,
Her sorrow stitched into every seam.
Stuck in the past, the clocks don’t tick
I learned to live with it
To call that ruin home, to breathe decay,
To walk on eggshells night and day.

I broke hearts, so hers could heal
Made my heart mute, just for her appeal

He stole her heart, she had said,
I don’t think she ever got it back
How could I have fixed a heart
That wasn’t broken but rather lacked?

Wealth- That’s all that mattered then,
The gowns, the etiquette, the perfect men.
‘Societally flawless’- the holy grail,
But flawless things are often frail.

But you- You showed me another hue.
Love not bought, but stumbled into.
And when I saw you, soft and true,
I wished I hadn’t learned to wound you.

I’d seen that look before, you see-
Longing. Hope. All wasted on me.
And that’s what haunts me, even now-
Not the cruelty, but not knowing how
To let myself be anything more
Than the echo of a locked, closed door.

It’s too late now, isn’t it?
On this bench, years from it-
That marsh, that boy, those tears unshed...
The words I never, ever said.

It’s too late now, isn’t it?
Even after all of it,
I still can’t hate her-
Even if I hate what I became
Trying to love her.