Perhaps I have been too kind

and that is the excuse I offer

for the delay in the telling,

for my chronic reticence,

in the telling of my own story

that, and the way your face crumpled as I spoke.

this reflection made me rethink

turn inward

made me wish I could un speak the words

the ones I worked so hard to bring to the surface,

un screwing them like arrows from my back,

learning to see the beauty in the scars

perhaps I have been too loud

and that is the reason

you did not hear me

could not look me in the eye

needing to shut down your senses

for fear of being over stimulated

over the top

out of control

we have been there before,

out of control

or maybe I should have added some sugar to my tone,

sweetened and softened my approach

before I buried the hatchet deep in the furrow of your


perhaps I have come too late

to this altar of your truth and beauty, and

now that I have readied myself and set a steady course

I see that you have turned to leave

and all that is left to me

is your empty seat.

And the beginning of the end

of my self abnegation.