Sipping my tea, warming
my shaking fingers, and there you
are again. (memories) I could throw your own
words back in your face. But I won't.
Holding on to the honey you spoke
that wasn't true, even at the time,
but me sitting here ashamed of my
own blindness, wanting to believe the
sweetness still. I was cautious at
first, didn't want the hurt or the pain
that I knew it would bring. I knew
this would happen, I knew
you would hurt me. Read my poetry
from days past you'll see my warnings
questions to ask myself when my
fantasy would end.
Nostalgia tricked me into reading
words you wrote long ago over
your anguish at someone else's knife
in your back, in your heart.
Giving me clarity to rise above,
I can feel those words, even if
I can't understand the monster
you say you've become.
You told me once
that I was strong when I needed to be.
I am strong now. Though not because I need
to be, but because there is no other
option in my mind.
I won't cry over you, I know
you would not cherish the tears
I would shed.
I will give you no satisfaction in
this pain or this sadness, or the way that when you
said just what I'd dreaded all along
it felt like a blow to my stomach, but
more importantly a bruise on my heart.
Yes, you scarred me, (broke me along jagged lines)
and yes, trusting gets harder every time someone
throws my faith away. But no, your thoughtless (reckless)
behavior will not leave me bitter.
I am strong, even if I am standing alone.