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.