It’s in the still of night,  
the quiet moments of solitude
that my mind is unable to find sanctuary in forgiving thought
my mind unable to reside in a familiar haven

It is in these moments of dwindled thought that my mind becomes a prisoner
delving into what is
what was and
what could have been

My truth surfaces in the chill of dawn
the yoke of my mind broken
my existence confirmed  as my feet tread the cold black surface
my indifferent eyes open
my weary soul exposed  

Once I was a slave of my mind
now I am confronted with
something unmercifully
something undeniable
the truth of my existence.

She mourned in the end
not for the man he became
but for the boy that was lost

he chose the path he walked
the man he became
the boy he forgot.

She was afraid to put pen to paper
but not for the reason you may presume

She was afraid to put pen to paper
for a reason only she knew

For when words are written
they hold only truth

For when words are spoken
there can be no proof.

I won't write
I won't call

Not because I can't
but because I still love you

I won't allow myself to be selfish
at least not with you.

A word I hear everyday
A word I barely understand
A word said by many
but only to grandstand

I am none the better
I am certainly not a victim

A word I say without trepidation
without haste

Abrogation should be the answer
but not for disuse

Abrogation should be the answer
because love is not for the obtuse.