Wilted
The end. Like the roses you got me, which wilted away. Even though I tried, and I stored them in a vase for my eyes to later be graced with their pretty petals and warm embrace. Then one night in the dark, in the passenger seat of your car, you said, "this is it", because your immaturity couldn’t allow you to see far. When those roses wilted in a vase, dresser top, I tore them from their wicked stems. I ripped them all apart. I promised my heart some moon past, I would never allow a man to drape and cast his delusional shadow over me before I chose to react. You can’t assume I can read your mind and feel your emotions at the same time. I am not whoever you created in your mind, I am nothing you defined. That’s probably what got you mad and caused the reaction you pursued that night. You only knew the version I allowed you to meet. I’m not gonna deny it wasn’t the best one, not by far definitely. I know that and I don’t say otherwise. I never claim to know everything because that is a lie. I will say I knew this wouldn’t last. I told you why. You called me not understanding, I believe that’s the lie. I tried and tried to see from your side but I have no reason except immaturity and the years between you and me. So this I take as a sign, sometimes it’s better to just be alone, instead of trying to fit two opposite pieces that don’t go. So it’s a cat's game for this tic tac toe.
Copyright © Sierra Mazzucca | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment