The muse

I turned to poetry
to forget a voice
I once thought soothing.

I turned to imagery
to forget a face
I once thought loving.

He told me I could trust him.
He told me he loved me.
He told me he would take care of me.
He told me my secrets were safe with him.

So I bared all my pains to him,
the assaults,
childhood traumas,
my fears.

I thought he would like the story
behind the ugly cover.
I thought he would stay to protect me
like he promised.

But he crossed over to the other side of the world,
a world that judged, ridiculed and condemned
the insane. A world that tore apart
everything that stood alone and weak.

He healed all my wounds in one go
by lending the biggest stab himself.
His desertion and mockery was the best medicine,
the biggest fear,
the greatest insult.

I forgot my past before him.
I forgot the me before him.

Pain began and ended with his thoughts.
Days began and ended with his memories.

But where once he stood
emptiness lurked in.
Loneliness crept into bed with me
challenging my existence and sanity.

Fearing company, fearing sunlight
in those dark days
I turned to empty pieces of paper
trying to fill it with a pretty verse.

Slowly the words started flowing
I became an abstraction
He, just a metaphor.

Slowly I realized
-“pain does have a soothing feeling”,
like he told
but I found it in poetry.

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