Blame
Hurt doesn’t begin to describe
The way it felt when you snapped my spine over your knee,
Like a pencil that wouldn’t write the words you needed it to,
Before you cracked it open to prove to yourself
That it wasn’t you who couldn’t find the words,
But the device you used to tell the story.
Could I be your catalyst for picking yourself off the ground
To meet your own eyes in the mirror,
Or am I just another on your list of reasons to drink after work?
You take to your vices, I’ll take to mine,
And let’s hope they never find their way back to each other.
Secrets are easier to manage than the shame of disillusionment.
I still fumble around in my mind’s eye to find the courage
Needed to repair myself without your guidance.
Stuck between your world and the next,
The rose-tinted glasses that fall from my face
And break apart as if they were the pencil in your fist,
Force me to remember that we’ve been severed both forever, and for now .
I admire your willingness to say no to who and what no longer serves you
Because I still catch myself praying that you still see me as worthwhile.
My ignorance fuels the dream of yet another chance meeting,
When I’m not wallowing in fear of your inevitable disapproval
As for you-
As for me-
I can only blame myself.
