The Closed Story

There was a time, once long ago When I was young, foolish, and too willing That I admit, we were happy. I ignored deeper issues in the hopes That we could fix them together. But those problems became weapons And like daggers, you used them against me I allowing you to do so Until I used a broken shard of myself as a weapon And plunged it deep into your heart, to escape. I ran I walked I cried I hurt I healed But of course, that’s not the end of the story As you entered my life, time and time again With tempting words of friendship That was always too good to be true I allowed you to try anyway. Until the last trial Where in my strength I finally confronted you on your reasons You finally admit that your heart was the true reason As you chased the memory of who I used to be We cried We tried We hurt We loved You left Because who I am did not meet Your illusion of what you see Held high on a pedestal So perfect and untouched Too far to really see So I am writing the ending to this story I have closed the paths I have changed the locks I have burned the last broken bridge I have closed the book on our story I screamed I cried I hurt I numbed I froze Even as you set sail once again I sent one last message A warning to confirm the end That this book is finished That there will be no more trials. Because you see through an illusion You can not realize That is not an ocean you set sail on But a mix of pain, blood, and tears And it will drown any that get close I swam I feared I struggled I relaxed I almost drowned I no longer fear being alone In loneliness, I can turn to myself I can pick up the shards of myself And repair them on my own It will only take strength and time I am returning to myself I am exploring who I truly am And who I can be I spend time with myself I love me I repair I smile I laugh I cry I heal