The Compass Lost

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The heart—a compass, wildly spun,
By passion's tide and tempers run—
It pointed me to fleeting flame,
A joy too quick, a selfish game.

You stood there, child in tender hold,
I should’ve listened, should’ve told
My pride to bow, my voice to still—
But I let impulse have its will.

Your friends stood near, their eyes like glass,
And in that heat, I let it pass—
A slap. Not hard. But loud, and wrong.
A moment short, a silence long.

And reason watched from far away,
It saw the price I’d have to pay.
It saw the crack inside the core,
The man you loved, now something more—
More cruel, more small, less brave, less true,
The kind of man who hurt you.

I wanted then to make it right,
To speak, to kneel, to end the fight.
But pride, that wall I wouldn’t breach,
Stood taller than my need to reach.

You know that feeling? That public fall?
That instant shame, in front of all?
I tried to form the words—but no.
I let you turn. I let you go.

And time, the slow and steady judge,
Now pushes truth like steady sludge.
Each day reveals, with sharper edge,
The vow I broke, the sacred pledge.

Today I stand without your light,
No laughter, no small hand held tight.
The joy I chased now tastes like dust—
A hollow prize, a shattered trust.

The whispered vow—a broken vow—
The shame I carry, here and now.
So let this heart no longer lead,
Without the voice of wiser heed.

Let others learn before they fall:
That pride and pain can build a wall.
And love, once lost, does not come back.
The road is gone. The sky is black.

I won’t return. I can’t undo.
But know, I once was loved by you.

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