You can’t do that.
You don’t matter.
You’re not important.
You’re worthless.
You’ll never amount to anything.
Color inside the lines.
Stick to the script.
Don’t rock the boat.
Don’t talk back.
Keep it to yourself.
Forget those dreams.
Be someone else.
Live the life you’re told to.
Follow the rules.
Surrender.
How can I go back when it
Felt so horrible spending time with
Someone who never thought of
Anyone else?
Oppressively difficult.
A narcissist’s overwhelming
Love for only himself.
Compassion not part of the conversation.
Miserly kindness doled out in
Anticipation of what he’ll get back.
Prickly nerves ready to
Fire off in a defensive storm.
A specter that obscures others.
It’s always the
Same story:
Something happens
And the parents
Stand by muttering
That they never
Saw it coming,
At once absolving
Themselves of any
Responsibility and
Avoiding having to
Admit they were
Part of the mess.
I can’t say that
I ever thought he’d
Be the same as me
But I must admit that
I never considered
The possibility that
He felt nothing inside,
An animated creature
That behaves only
According to its latest
Whim, whatever it desires
At that particular moment,
With no regard for
Anyone who might be
In the vicinity.
They no longer talk,
And he concocts
A story that makes
Him look like he
Has no part in the
Conflict when he,
In reality, bears
The brunt of all
His relationship
Failures, a reality
He can’t escape
No matter how hard
He tries.
They meet at their
Favorite restaurant but
There’s not much to
Say and hasn’t been
For some time now.
Staring at their
Plates, moving their
Food around, waiting
For something that
Won’t come.
They both remember
Vivid conversations,
Ready laughter,
Looking forward to
Seeing each other.
There came a time
When it was virtually
Impossible to have
Any kind of civil
Conversation with him,
All traces of humanity
And rationality had
Been surreptitiously
Extirpated from his mind,
Leaving only an angry shell.
Nothing left for me
To say except for
I wish it had ended sooner.
It wasn’t so much
That you were annoying as
The complete absence of decorum.
Repository of unawareness,
A dimly lit wit
Imposing itself on everyone,
Coughing fit of nonsense,
Gleefully spewed upon us.
I would bet anything
You had no clue it happened,
Habits being what they are,
On to the next offense.
I finally speak my mind,
Saying things I should
Have years ago but never
Was permitted to or had
The courage to reveal.
My effort is met with
Silence, an impenetrable
Wall of defensiveness and
Hurt that no sound breaches.
I recognize it’s
Always been this way.
