Untitled

Push me, pull me, tear at me.

Reach into my chest, take out my heart,

lace it through the fingers of your outstretched hand

and squeeze…

The effect of your words has the same result.

Blood drips slowly

from the attacks you have made on my soul.

Severed skin, jagged flesh,

visible scars.

Wicked words, manipulation,

paralyzing guilt.

Yet the seething anger churning within me

is forcing me to react, to move,

to stop allowing you to do this.

 

I wondered what it would feel like

the day I fell out of love with you…

The day my shattered heart

began to reattach the pieces of itself.

I wondered how I would see you,

how the light would fall across your face.

I wondered what tone would befall

the sound of your voice.

 

You are a stranger to me now

with the vaguely familiar characteristics

of someone I used to know.

Your words sing of jealousy and resentment

and the sight of you is angry and sad.

Your presence attaches itself to me

like a chain

dragging me backwards in time.

With constant references and reminders

of who I no longer am.

Your need and want for me

have become ironic representations

of the passage of time.

Evolution, rebirth, and the phoenix,

rising like the sun.

This is who I am,

I’m sorry you don’t recognize me.