I wish I was a musician,

Then I could sing about this hurt,

Or maybe an artist,

In between the strokes and dubs and shades I would paint out the sorrow in my heart,

But sadly I am none of that,

I am nothing but a poet and all I have are my words…

Well I will try to make them work.
You came into my life,

And you promised you were different,

For some reason I believed you were,

Because in fact you did feel very separate from how most did,

In a good way,

A different way,

And I let you in.

My front yard was full of overgrown feelings,

Pain grew like cobwebs over the doors and windows to my soul,

Regret was the 3 inch layer of dust covering the surfaces,

And caution was the lock that kept everything and everyone out,

But for some reason,

I let you in.
I do not know what I expected.

I have had such experiences before,

I do not understand how I could fall for it again.

I showed you around the chaos of my being,

And you said that you didn’t mind,

You said you would help me clean up,

Get things together,

And then, I should have realized there was something amiss,

Because why would someone help me without gaining anything?
You kept your act up long enough to make me put my guard down,

Then once you saw that I now slept with the door open,

And I left the key somewhere you too could access,

You showed me what you were after.
You went to my shelf of scars,

And one by one you poked them open,

You took out every secret from their drawers and you put them out for everyone  to see,

You took my trust that I hid in the safe,

And you trampled on it like it was a slimy bug,

I felt aches in places I never knew felt,

And now I am back to my broken pieces…
I don’t know what it is I expected.




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