Grieve for All We Believed it Should Be

What metamorphosis washes away.

Photo by Connor Wilkins on Unsplash

your card in the mail
made me bleed again
feelings welling up within me
you didn’t intend

though i was
suspicious of your intentions
i dove in again
dark water
runs deep for me

magical thinking
the siren’s song
makes me think you care
the knife goes in deep this time
it’s too difficult to turn a blind eye

i’d built an imaginary friend
like a pretty little doll
and a pedestal
to set her upon

i don’t need to beg
no more pleading need
no more fragile hope
no more distress
or emptiness

i am the seed
love springs from me
i am what i have longed for
love is me

i can not comprehend
this level of apathy
that once was covered
with a thin veneer
of pleasantry