I miss him I do. I hate him too. I miss the fantasy of the good in him. I was fooled and am still a fool. Anger is mine, every time I can see. My heart is the real culprit. It’s easier to hate than to feel. The craziness. The mess. Why I put up with the stress? Something within me. My own issues, no less. Confused love with his attachment. No love only take. I was for his purpose. A start to an end.
No reservoir to give. No room to love. He chose to live with a life-long drought. A life sipping dry everyone else’s pool. Never filled his own one up. I, a welcoming spout. Understanding of all this,I took a risk and thought if we worked on it, it would all work out. When actions screamed a show there was more to just drought. Twists and turns of insanity gave way then played loud. Camouflauge made way of his mastery and tasks. No give, no love was understood for issues from his past. When self-serve was apparent and was the the name of his game. The us that one was began the start of the demise. Twist and turns of who you are were sculpted for his purpose. If he needed an out or just because, lies he conjured about you surfaced. Never a day, his twisted ways would untwist and be gone with. No regard for your personhood or how he could be there for it. It didn’t serve his purpose. Do for him but he’ll twist it to see himself as a loving person. Objectify and twisted lies abound any given day. Objectification was your existence and do as he said. Covered with a smile and the sweetest charm represented. Manipulation a constant. If you didn’t buy it. Insanity erupted. Twisted tales and deflections. Lies, betrayals and greed. He would sit there and see you being the lies that was he. Any twist and turn will do to keep off seeing his reflection. You did the things he did. While he looks at himself in the mirror with a ever insane distorted twisted perfection.
I dove in that pool. Hurt my head. Hurt my heart. Hit the concrete floor. Discovered how weak and how strong my own foundation is. My own reservoir needs some fill but it is not empty. It evaporates sometimes if the sun’s burn is hard but refills with the rain when the drops give to it from the sky. The wind makes it wavy and rocks and things may bring on a sting. I just get to clear it. Then all gets back to breathing calm again. My fill is within me and I’m finding it still. My heart not yet unbroken and mourning sneaks in. Sometimes get lonely. This is life, it is. I do see it was I who jumped in. No one else to blame. Why I was okay with such lack of love, betrayal, deceit. Twist and turns and projections of his own evil sprees. An A laid upon my doorstep. Delivered to me. I’m am now the Scarlett. Used to deflect what is he. All that he was, has been put upon me. I’ve kicked it from my doorstep cause my real letter is B. My Beauty within will bash his evil probes any day. The lies and deceit are yours my dear. My conscious is clear. This you may never see. As you live life as a deciever and blame each and every past and future lady.
Awoken today with fantasies of loving. A man who takes my hand, walks with me, concerned for happiness and my well being. Nice again to be open to want what love can be or is. That kind of man. I wonder exists?
Will ever that be again? Or did I even ever have in my past? Maybe in bits and pieces? Never stuck, fell through. I guess. I see it sometimes in life and with others so I must keep in belief that it’s true, regardless.