You didn't give me shelter.
You gave me a cage.
You gave me whitewashed walls and
called it a home as I walked warily
on eggshells.
Yet I learned to crave the quiet.
I preferred to live in silence versus
hearing one of them crack.
The sound of them shattering
was somehow as loud as your palm
against my face.
Tag: fucked
Unreliable
I'm an unreliable narrator.
My stories are missing timelines and their details have been diluted by either drugs or depression.
Although that's probably for the best.
Why repeat what I'm urged to remember,
but compelled to forget?
Him
One night split my life
into two separate eras.
Before him and after him.
Guilt
Guilt is an awful gnawing thing that relentlessly eats at you.
And mine had become a painfully persistent parasite, rapidly growing as it fed off of my secrets and shame.
Devouring my lies almost as quickly
as my lies were devouring me.
Twice
I don't want to write pretty words.
I don't want to write words that are read once and left to sit politely on a shelf.
I don't want to write about the sky and the birds and the flowers that are just too pristine and perfect to be plucked.
I want to release the madness from my head.
I want my pain, my fears, and my ugliness to exist as words so beautiful that they earn their right to be read twice.
Alive
My birth certificate has an error.
My life truly started nearly thirty years after the date that was printed on that paper.
It took almost three full decades to finally feel alive and all I had to do was accept myself.
All I had to do was stop lying.
Enabler
You were my enabler.
You provoked and praised
the most pitiful, pathetic
parts of me.
Letting go of you meant more
than letting go of bad habits.
It meant escaping a version of myself
that I never desired to know.
Woven
Eventually her string of lies
became hard for even her to follow.
She couldn't remember what she had said,
who she told what, or what was believed between whom.
She had woven a web
without an apparent end.
The truth hidden somewhere
between a single fiber.
Apart
What if all we have left
in common are memories?
What if the only thing
still holding us together
are the days that we felt
we would never be apart?
Language
We existed together as witty innuendos
and double entendres.
Our sarcasm became blatant
and often drifted to the edge of indecency.
Yet that was our language...
Smart yet immature.
Intelligent yet crude.
But now our once familiar language
has been translated into something so vastly foreign and incomprehensible to me.
The banter I loved now lost.
Our words polite and mediocre at best.
AO Poetry 
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