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.