Take The Past And Shove It

I want nothing to do with the life that involved you.  I’ll take the furniture I bought.  The kids we had.  The stories, remembered more fondly than they were earned.  But as for the house, the town, the job, and the majority of the friends, I’ll leave them all behind.  Surgically removed like a tumor.  Exacting my revenge on your misery I take the treat of rebuilding a new life.  One where you are all but forgotten.  I know you feel me erasing you too.  You show it with the hesitation in your voice every time you speak to me.  Knowing that you willingly gave up all that you had and yet still unsure exactly what for.  Is it better now?  I wonder sometimes but it’s a fleeting thought at best these days.  Then again I never really knew what “it” was anyway.

The road before me is paved with golden sunlight, a multitude of flowers in full bloom.  Nearly any road before you looks like a blessing when you’ve wandered forth from the pits of hell.  Subjected to fire and evil by those sworn to love you.  Love isn’t something I’ve given up on.  It is something that is always present, forever around me, and true.  No I will never give up on love.  But I did give up on you.

But you gave up on me first.  Ultimately that singular fact is what gave me the power to walk away.  To remove myself from the toxic poison that you heaved upon my chest.  To see light.  To see opportunity.  To see me.  The me that is still reeling, tiptoeing across the surface of my life seeing the depth below the frozen water ready to plunge but afraid to die, again.  Not literally of course.  Perhaps all humans die a thousand deaths before they take their last breath.  Each death bringing new life.  My obsession with the Phoenix, explained.  Plain.  Black and White.

For a person of so many absolutes I’m always coming up with varied shades of grey.  Pantone effect. It’s the place that bleeds in between the absolutes where I find life.  That yin and yang.  What were you to me anyway?  A lesson learned?  A deeper look into what could be?  A stain to give me appreciation for the unscathed?  No.  Too cliché.  You were… everything I couldn’t ever be.  Or at least that’s what I used to think.  Sick, sad, beautiful and true.  Even if truth was something I could never get from you.  At least you taught me how to lie.  Too bad the only person I ever lied to was you.  Karma.

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