For Your Own Pay
It's hard not to Say
I spit on your grave.
When you then say
but I really loved you
I say you are lying
and I cannot trust you
They say nevertheless I must forgive you,
the depravity of your insecurity
combined with a repressed greedy absurdity
ambitiousness out of place. I say
Show me How its the fault of my
lack of generosity when you
just take from me and don't know how to give
Grace.
I am stuck in the torment of my
unforgiveness and judgment of your failures
of provision and protection.
I am stuck trying to face all my love
when I think you are half demon.
I'm stuck not trusting your
slick deceptions of self-protections
in the misplaced name of holiness
when its nothing but business
I'm stuck in the hell of your silent BS
because you never learned how
to properly kiss.
I think I must half hate you
then I think I must think too much
better to silently spin poetry
than wonder why you are gone so much.
For how does one Annul a Heart
or silence a persistent song
How does one excise a memory
impressed upon one's soul so long
How does one deny the pull
that says I fooled you all, a con.
How do you forget the dream
that wrote itself in verse
How do you instead still
and wait for miracles to birth.
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