Recycled

This is not a poem
or maybe it is, but you wouldn’t understand—

forgive yourself,
I mutter

Breaths deep, as the crickets carry me
back—
to the honeysuckle shed.
All you ever did was yell—I hid in plain sight because you never took notice.
I’ve blamed myself, made mistakes and a bed where self-loathing lies.
I curl up each night; self-disgust a faithful companion ever-ready by my side.

forgive yourself,
I mutter

You’re the monster and I know that now. The dictator of an empty shell.
I wrote a book, and you said nothing. Held it in your hands. Skimmed the pages. Pressed it closed.

forgive yourself,
I utter…

Manure makes compost rich. So I’ve sown your bullshit in my garden—
I run my fingers over keys, planting seeds, and
granting life to the words . . .  you’ll never understand.

forgive yourself,
And I do.

© Grace Black

 

Just another place to plant my words… 

Love and Ink,
Grace

4 thoughts on “Recycled

Words, love them! Have some? Leave them.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s