These words used to be innocent
Sweet and kind even
They existed in a neutral space
Unless I needed them for something
And I could imbue them with my own meaning.

How dare you corrupt them
And leave them in my mind
In my mouth
Where they will drip venom
Straight to my heart
Until my stomach churns
And my lungs constrict.

These words used to be mine
I owned them
They are mundane, everyday words
Or they were.
Now they remind me of you
And of things you said.
They remind me of the times when
You said them to me
And made them good, and kind
And made them promises
And made me trust you.

I can’t forget them
I can’t not use them
They lurk, shadowy and Orwellian
Hijacking me.

I could forgive a lot of things
But I can’t forgive this.

This entry was posted in Grief, loss, love, personal, Poem, rage and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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