Tag Archives: writing


One day,

when I’m finally free

and you gather to mourn my escape

from this captivity that you call “life,”

don’t say you wish you knew. 

Don’t tell people,

with tears in your eyes,

all the ways you would have helped

if I had just come to you. 

Because I fucked up. 

I left some evidence last night,

and I didn’t realize until I saw you 

watching the patch of dirty red

contrasting with my faded jeans. 

I was ready for you to approach me

or call someone

or take me somewhere. 

Until I looked into your eyes

and watched you convince yourself

that it wasn’t real

Because it’s easier for you to 

lie to yourself

than to accept what I’ve become. 

It explains so much, though. 

You can’t love 

What you don’t understand

and those bridges behind me 

might be burning,

But the fire started on the other side. 

One day, I’ll be stranded

And when your siege 

becomes my demise

You’ll look regretfully at the ashes

That used to connect us

And wonder when they fell apart.  

But I know. 

And when I die, 




The last thing that I’ll see

Will be your face 

As you chose your pride 

Over my mental stability

And I can almost smell the kerosene

As you turn away

And drop the match. 

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Posted by on May 28, 2015 in Dark, Dysfunctional, Poems


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