x83 (trigger)

Sometimes I want to write about something, but I’m afraid. Sometimes I want to talk about things openly, but I feel like it’s a bad idea. So sometimes I write poetry to try to convey those thoughts or meanings in a clouded way. December is a difficult month for me; two years ago created a vortex that I feel trapped in this time of year. Maybe someday I’ll be able to talk about it and receive support.

Today is not that day.

It’s never fair
The breathing
It comes slowly
Itching my trigger finger

It’s always there
The fear, the wonder
The questions
Like black ink, they linger

Calling them on the phone
Asking, pleading
Begging them to tell me what to do
Searching for answers

Hoping I won’t feel so alone
Defeated, making plans
Giving them the benefit of doubt
My trust is tainted like a cancer

Knowing that I have to see you
With all that guilt in the back of my mind
I want to be angry, to be done
But the good daughter in me won’t run

I don’t know if it’s true
But the pain stays
Two years feels like a heartbeat
Did you think this was fun?

Moving on is painful
Surviving is a chore
I’m doing this alone
Hating you all the while

This secret is shameful
No one knows that more than me
So I’ll keep my mouth shut and cope
Walking by myself this crooked mile

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