All beginnings are beautiful, the French say Maybe that is why betrayal stings, a finger in a light socket a lasting burn, like a blister on my foot, my pace is made painful I walk wounded, stop to try to salve the wound, protect it with the gauze bandage of "it is over now, he can't hurt you anymore" which bleeds through and needs to be changed, reminded, advice and commiseration of friends is the antibiotic salve
I look at you and remember a one time mentor and now I watch your behavior a plastic bag in the wind, your opinions and pronouncements tossed here and there hour by hour, depending on who is there at the moment to influence you Shapeshifter you are, talk is too dangerous now my resentment bubbles over like a hot, shaken, warm soda, even if I try to keep the cap on, once the froth commences, there is no help, I can't hide it as the liquid radioactive anger spills forth onto my hand and onto you
So hard for me to accept the death of a relationship You are still alive and breathing, so how can it be that something is dead? But there is that dead space between us and a fear of you in me, and memories, like little sores, in my belly of your abuse of the wetness of my tears that destroyed the art of my make-up washed away the eye liner on my bottom lid, as if it was my dignity