Conflict Emotions

Photo by Christian Holzinger on Unsplash

Not allowed to
Shed a tear, not allowed to cry
It hurts to be alone when it’s approaching midnight.
When your man falls away into his
Bed alongside the
person who has come to visit in my
head. A stranger I am becoming now- and in a minute, I imagine I am walking an abandoned
Town. I shiver in the cold, pull my cloak around my torso in the shaking
tears that fall . . . my face is
wet and slimy, but there is no one here to take,
away the storm before it
hits me. No one to open their home or keep
the raging wind
From crying. It’s alright, though, for he said that I was
mean to him tonight . . . and therein I will make myself to walk
the beaten path of my irrational emotion, hoping I am strong enough to make it home, without a
hand to guide in confidence, or a welcome word of hope, treading on the toes of
infamous resilience, by which others came to know
My name. I will simply pull the covers up around my
Head, and hide beneath a perfect masquerade, until it leaves
me once again defenseless, and I find
the rage has been abandoned in the
Moment, and the storm
has found its second project, leaving me behind in its journey
of mass destruction. There is nothing but a tired face to testify the damages . . .
And when morning breaks, weathered by its
torrential trace, after taking the brunt
it showered-
Lamented sadness, woebegone madness, love, and turbulent,
torrid passion- the hatred becomes an
Outlier, and rather my
expression opens, and I am once again
In
contact. My partner just a silly tease with zero
Conflict.

Em ~