Sometimes I cannot even find the words to purge the emotion I know needs purging from this system of mine.
Hurt by the same one over again, but I cannot let go of my foolish faith that someday you would want to learn who I really am... that someday you might, for even one moment, see me for a person, not just the role I play in your life... that someday we could have a relationship that has more than one side...
But in those moments of hope, of letting down my defenses to give that naive fantasy even the remotest chance to ignite, that is when the knife is slipped forth. With an almost silent sound, like that of snowflakes hitting frozen grass on a night so quiet you'd think the stars could sing if you listened close enough, the blade penetrates soft layers of skin and tissue, it twists between red rivers of emotional blood, and even if I see it coming, I let it in. Because somehow, I never believe you could be the one holding the weapon wrapped in your palm, until it's already spiraling through my own bone and sinew. My eyes lower to the wound, still unbelieving, confused and in awe, and it is only then in the sight of my own heart fighting to beat from outside my body, screaming in agony that it is has been dragged from within me and dying in your hands, that I remember my repressions of persistent subtle violations, the recurring nightmare of your duplicity and feigns of loyal dedication.
After the collapse, the rebuilding by others to heal the holes left by my foolish hopes, I find a disconnected peace, given enough time. The sandpaper of your love wears me thin, but leaves me smooth and polished, it scars me strong. And then you turn, with your smiles of smoke, like a lover turned abuser, twist and topple the balance of fault, worming past words spoken to create insinuations of blame onto me and off of you. Coloring doubts into my memory, like a child's fingers dance across crayoned rainbow pages, leaving out what you chose to forget, adding what suits your perspective, and always with your purpose - a destination you yourself may not even recognize, but it is how you survive, how your mind weaves it's own world for you to float within, so you may never need regret or cry, the tears you seem to always demand of I.
And so now, it is with cynicism that I retreat from your touch, even if ever sincere. That my trust denies your truths, your endeavors of good faith, or cries for help or reprieve. I swim from your drowning floods, no matter what those waters might hold, good or bad. I flee, or risk the agony of faith forgone yet again, and I must learn my lessons now or never, if even at the loss of you.
I cannot always pull away, but when the faces of honest alliance stand true beside me, the silhouettes of your dissimulation are tainted by their radiant illumination in the rooms of my soul that I call home. And I feel their strength infusing into my blood, I feel the lightness of gratitude lifting me, bobbing me above the waters of duplicitous, conditional love.
And I weep that I cannot fix you, that I am not enough as I am, to you. But then I remember, that you will never take the time to know who I am. But maybe if you did, maybe then, I would be enough, but you will never know...
And I am sad.
But I persevere. I will allow these scars to evolve this shell, and soft flesh beneath, into drops of wisdom from the deluge of tears.
And perhaps one day, someday, there shall be reprieve from this web of half truths and unconvincing chaos. But I cannot hold my breath for that day, for you, anymore.
#hopevali #contradictivehope #dropsofwisdom #delugeoftears #prose #purge #iamsad