Her past actions
Weighed heavily on her now
As they returned to
Torment her in ways she
Had hoped they would not but
Knew were inevitable,
An outstanding debt
For unmindful decisions
Come due and payable in
Inescapable anguish.
She does what
She is told to,
Not what she
Thinks she should,
Ignoring the person
She really is:
A beautiful gift.
Thinking, behaving
In unison,
Each exactly as the other,
No variation,
Awash in uniformity,
Ignoring beauty,
Possibility.
I chance upon
A much-beloved song
From long ago.
A flood of memories,
Youth, hope, wonder,
Pervasive self-loathing.
Dreams of being loved,
Someday, by someone,
In a different time.
She never quite
Trusted him,
Something about
The fake smile,
Overconfidence in
His supposed intelligence,
A general unease,
Lack of connection.
I can tell
As he’s talking that
He’s somewhere else.
I ask him about it
Without receiving
A clear answer.
Sometimes
Questions
Aren’t welcome.
Each key means something,
I try to make sense of it all,
Tapping randomly with
Little purpose beyond
Filling empty space.
It would be nice if at least
Part of it were meaningful,
But I know it’s not,
Nor do I expect it to be,
Unless something changes.
There are times when
She still speaks to me
In the middle of some
Mundane task or
Important event.
I’m grateful to hear
Her, remembering what
It was like to
Have her near.
A complete absence of self-awareness,
Manifesting as the total lack of
Ability to see the effect of one’s
Toxic actions on others,
Perpetuating an unchanging
Cycle of discomfort and suffering
Mangling anything in its path and
Rendering reason insignificant.
Swimming against a torrent,
The suffocating swirls of hurt
Pulling one down until
No self remains.
