i swallow my words and feel the lump in my throat till my heart aches just to spare you from pain. i drive out of the way so that you will not be caught like a deer in the headlights. i bury my pride so that you can roar like a lion, a lying lion.
i sit in his chair and tell him i want you to hurt, why do i want you to hurt i ask. he responds by saying you don't, so i say i want him to feel and he says he is incapable of feeling..i say not good enough. I say i am tired of him, tired of talking about him. he tells me about all the women who sit in this chair who have a someone like you. that you are nothing special, have nothing to offer just in ability to take, he is mediocre at best, a charade of a man.
i say i don't want to talk about him, i ask, do i hate him, he says you are angry, i say i don't want to be angry he says you have the right to be..
The Fox
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Dear Poet,
Today, you woke with plan you were going to befriend a fox. I listened as
you spoke about how you would follow it's track trough the forest a...
3 comments:
Maybe one day, when a single experience is buried under so many others that life lays down, the anger won't be there anymore....?
maybe the anger is the first step in healing...
HUGS Nadia...
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