Aside from class assignments, I cannot currently write poetry. But there was a time when I could. When my adolescent and young adult demons where well fed and I struggled to find myself. This past weekend, my husband and I went through our basement and years of boxes we have packed around our adult lives from houses, cities, states, and failed relationships. I stumbled upon letters from my father (another post for another time), letters from my husband when we were deployed to two different countries, and old poems I had written many lifetimes ago that I would like to share.
I am not sure who this poem is about, but goodness I was in a horrible place.
“Showcase”
I hate the way you love me
The way you feed on my misery
Thirsting for my tears and sweat that fall to the ground, watering the garden of your ego
I am your accessory
I smile for your convenience
Standing on a pedestal you placed me on to drink freely on the attention from other men.
I cannot leave you.
You have taken all from me.
I cannot breathe without you.
Yet when you sleep, I am alone again.
You hurt me when you tore down my walls
I cry when you touch me.
I kept you at arms length, but you still broke through.
It’s not okay. I’m not okay.
What you have taken from me, I can never give again.
But still you ask for more… more…
I only have but one soul.
Now I am a ghost who sleeps in your bed
A memory of who I used to be and who you tell people I am.
