Blooming flower

  I have avoided writing about you because I don't know where to start. I don't know which version of you I need to let go first. The most likely answer is the version of you that I still love. How I can continue to love a man who commits such cynical acts is beyond me. The things you have done form a knot in my stomach the size of your fist and makes my throat swell up. You live your life just as any other person but not just any person has the past that you do. You have the power to chew up and spit out women as an Olympic sport. You have the power to leave my insides cowering in a corner too afraid to make a move. You have the power to turn my heart against me and put my mind at war. You have the power to create your own version of events, in confidence that your story will be heard first. You have the power to erase the person I was to you and manifest her new, a perfect reflection of your perfect disaster.  And still I love you  I love you  I love you  Or at least I loved

I told you I loved you and wished you well; up until the very last day  I left you with a smile on my face  You loved me still, but would never say the words; You always felt your pain was the worst  You left me in silence not knowing how it hurt; When those unspoken words began to burn 

  Numbingly outnumbered in this world of easy prediction  Harboring a soul too heavy for the average heart to care for  Wandering  Not lost  But searching for a place to call home 

 

  I am strong but I am broken  Though I rarely run out of pieces to break  Too many times I have stood tall in the pit of my breaking point  Lightly gripping the edge before f alling in slow motion  I soak my soul in written words Dripping letters into the fine lines of my brain  An easy escape for a time filled with pain