A poem written about a long term destructive relationship with a family member. |
First Cut It has been said that the deepest cut is the first. Not for me. Peel back the defensive disguise to see The scars of the unspoken. It is a chronic problem yet each wound is fresh, The toxin of contempt and the biting bitterness in her glares. It has been said that sticks and stones my bones can break But it is the words, those said and those repressed Which paralyse my paradise. And the silence The silence which is unlike any other It hangs in the air and gathers venom It strips away the self esteem that was my shield It plucks at the stitches placed by loved ones who carefully try and pull the ragged edges of my soul together when pierced it revels as I wince waiting for it all to end I leave the room she enters I smile at her disdain But none of this brings it to an end There is no end but a mere interval When one of us steps onto a plane It’s never the first cut which hurts the most for me It’s the first after a pause When I dare to hope that time away has changed it And that hope leads me lamblike to try again It’s that cut that causes me to gasp To lose my breath and drown in tears To think for just a moment that it’s justified That I am so worthless that I deserve this But I have mastered the art of the sarcastic sticky plaster I know that there is naught to do but pick myself up and persevere I fight pain with logic and let kind words of others hold back my fear I don’t not wish it was different That those scars were never made But I can’t let myself wallow in what ifs I must acknowledge and move on But yet I never learn and each year that hope arises fresh Perhaps one day she’ll tell me what I did or why but until then I must… |