Illusion

I'm not proud of myself for becoming like them;
addicted to tiny blips of self-gratification,
vacant validation.

I have lamented my losses,
burned countless bridges,
all for the sake of self-protection.

I wonder if I have it in me
to see what someone offers,
accept it gratefully. 

Then I remember.

I don't feel entitled to be a bitch,
despite subjection to tiny
and massive heartbreaks. 

Is it so unthinkable to act like one?

I now ghost with the best of them,
say 'I love yous', I'm not sure I mean,
vacillate between 'stay' and 'leave',
wanting to be held and pushing away.

I run at a sign of changing tides,
wanna be the all in someone's eyes,
but if I sniff the slightest doubt,
I refuse to bide my time.

Who is fooling who?

I know who I am when I look in the mirror
through cracked lenses.

Am I willing to admit I don't know how to love?

Or if I do, and this is all a tragedy,
then when will I accept 
the need to surrender?

My mind whispers,
'be alone and happy as a known stranger.'

Love also speaks to mute those words,
'I always overcome.'

Each damaged piece will
be put back together,

and so I try again.

Emily C. Poésie © 2019
Photo Credit: MabelAmber  | Pixabay

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s