“You are not the man I thought you were.”
Those words, a writ, a razor-slit
across my heart. I died a little.
Years prior, crushed and struggling,
I tried to hold it together with a mask.
An adhesive thing…
It held my pieces in human-shape.
That man wasn’t real.
He was too damaged and weak to feel.
But, irony, oh, irony.
When I came out of my darkness,
Just enough,
I found I was much like the man
I pretended to be.
But, you had gone on.
The regret cuts away hunks of me.
© CGT, 2017.
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