Cloaked in your scathing words, the memories of your soulless strikes— at my…

Cloaked in your scathing words,
the memories of your soulless strikes—
at my weaknesses,
my dignity,
my heart—
cause a quake within me.
Yet, I still hold sympathy,
wanting to give you the scraps of me
when you’re clawing for my love

I loathe that I still long for you—
your cries of helplessness pulled me in.
I risked my sanity for your sake,
drowning in regret as I partook in your sins.
Was it your intention—to demolish my soul,
like a rabid Cerberus,
trapping me within your ruins?

My sorrow for you deepens
as I mourn the thought of you lying beneath the earth,
with no desire to convert
into who you were meant to be.
Never knowing, never feeling
peace,
love,
joy
while breathing.

I pity you.

It seems as though acceptance is a craving you devour,
as if you’ve been starved,
needing constant praise
To believe you matter.

Your desperation for validation is gluttony—
you’re never satisfied.
The truth you’ve tried to hide
is magnified.
Above all else, it’s power you crave—
a hunger even love could never tame.

Do you deny it?
You display your best attributes to draw people near,
then when they’re close enough,
you disappear,
leaving those who trusted you
Drowning in tears.

Your voice is sly at times—
a silver tongue,
like a siren’s song
no sailor could flee from.
Your speech always prepared to resolve
when it benefits your selfish desires,
always ready to attack
when I refuse what your will inspires.

Contradictory in your beliefs—
you preach love,
no tolerance for toxicity,
yet you’re the walking epitome.

I still cling to the hope
you’ll someday see the truth,
reflect,
confess
what you’ve misconstrued.

You plead for my presence, but
I’ve seen the flames burning within you,
ready to consume me
in every moment of doubt, anger, insecurity.
I no longer have the energy
to cater to your inferiority
or feed into your delusions.

Which mask will you wear today?
What words will you conjure up
to delay the process of my escape?
Love, to you, is something you take.
The rage you projected
was immensely misplaced.
Now you see it — too late.

You ask for love and light and grace —
where were you
when I needed the same?