She is me, my mind is myself, a passion unto flame
there is no separation, no glorious difference
between shake and stem, emotion and logic
I have the fire of my soul, and it burns
everyone it touches
The twin of my self, my reflection of soul
watches from that small, cold place,
locked away in my mind; she cries
not screams of rage, but pity
she knows my enslavement
emotionally wounded
perpetually lost
Niether really knows the other; I don't know myself
Rage floods my veins, my mind quickens to hurt
words pour forth before I can stop them
filthy, terrible things that amaze me
If I know it hurts, I say it
He stands there too calm, he takes my bits of wraith
Pauses before speaking; I know my tongue cuts deep
he takes a breathe, speaks again, so calm
this only make my anger worse, fuels it
how can he be so terribly heartless?
how can he not see my pain?
The knife goes in again, sarcasm punches through; I have him
his exterior is shaken; he pauses again: close, so close
He patronizes me; trying to be soothing. I know his lies
I claim torture, cruelity, and punishment on his part
he is, after all enslaving, binding me
punishing all women everywhere; I give him argument,
my spittle; he uses logic, reason
I hate him; his words expose my hyprocracy, a reflective self can see
He turns what I say to nothing, insulting me: fuleing anger
he turns what I say I am against who I know I am
Pointing out my actions as childish,a betrayal
only makes me more angry
I know he loved me, but only now
one last letter, never sent
I found today; I think he
planned this, cruelty
the last word
his last, only
in death
Years have past, I remember this place
in my head, in a memory, in the past
where I was, if I had only known
If I might not have been
If I could have done
Questions drive me to write again, revistit, open unhealed wounds
Years and years, years and years, an almost enlightenment for me
So much time has passed, faded, bleached; I've changed so much
my bitter, tireless resentment, festoned, anchored reality
for making him leave, I created this world for myself
but in one small letter, he made me remember
how much I loved him; he loved me
simply because
He made me remember, how much he cared, loved, cherished & hurt
and let me see all our fights in new, shiney, bright light
by letting me remember something he would never do
let me make choices that would hurt me later
I was too selfish, too much pride
That letter he sent, I found far too, too late
reminded me of pride, our first, sweet night
how I wanted and he denied, he kissed, he waited
for just and only for me, he made me wait
and now he waits again, etheral
You never know the time you have; you never know yourself, except in retrospect. I can only pray others don't let themselves waste themselves for pride.
