knotty sequoia
As I sit here waiting for something that will never happen,
I still have hope that it will.
I wait for your hands to leave my throat,
I wait for my hands to let go of the rope.
It hurts, but not that bad anymore
Even though it should.
I wonder when you’ll leave me alone,
But you won’t, and that’s something I've known.
Part of me wants you to stay, but please, please, PLEASE, go away.
I’ve gotten used to the abuse, the feeling of you taking advantage of my kind heart.
Part of me knew it would hurt, but part of me didn't expect it.
I saved your life, and now I regret it.
I wonder why I didn’t end it sooner.
So I write, with your hands pulling the strings connecting my hands to every stroke of the pen like a twisted puppeteer because you know I am writing about you.
I see you over my shoulder, whispering into my ear new material to write with, as you remind me how bad I am at it.
So I write, as my shoulder becomes heavy from the weight of the shattered world you left me with.
So if you must know, I write because you’ve left me with no one else to tell about you and what you’ve done. So now the page is my only audience as I sit here writing personal poems for you, about you, including you, influenced by you,
Just for you.
wise kraken
static topaz