There's So Much Left To Say:

And I’ve put it in this poem for you.

[Repost from 2020]

I’ve spent months swallowing the burning feeling in my throat, letting it create a fire in my belly until the eruption of feelings and words I’ve never said make their way to my mouth, with nowhere to spew the words out…

Until now.

I’m no longer pretending there are not earthquakes of anger and regret shifting underneath the thick of my porcelain skin.

You created this angry magma flow beneath my surface and I don’t care if its ugliness makes me “unfavorable”;

I’m tired of hiding the aftermath of your presence in secrecy, so here it is:

Fuck you.

I scream the words inside my head every time I hear your name fall from the mouths of those who think they know you.

I won’t say I wish the worst for you (I do), but I won’t be giving you pity when karma finally makes her appearance and terrorizes you.

In all honesty, I’ll be cheering her on from the sidelines, screaming, “Hit him harder!”

You don’t deserve a good thing in this world; not after the chaos you brought into my life, tormenting me with lies and violence until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Seven years.

I endured your category five hurricane, battled the turbulent winds and struggled to keep my head above your raging waters for seven fucking years.

You came in and tried to tear down all the success I had created, tried to set my world ablaze and make sure I suffered at your hands.

But, I took the ashes and built back up my world, built myself stronger; for myself and my daughter (the one you’ve forgotten about).

She deserves sunshine and fields of wildflowers and endless joy, and that’s exactly what I’m giving her while you spend your time elsewhere;

partying away and chasing after a woman who won’t realize your storm until she is caught in the swells of your angry sea, struggling to breathe (and rightfully so).

I’ll never understand how you sleep at night, but I sure sleep better knowing you’ll never walk back through the front door.

I hope you know the last place you’re welcomed is in the place you tried to set ablaze, and the one I now call home.

And I hope you know your attempts were failed.

I didn’t lose a thing when I walked away, but looking at what you have left to call yours, it sure seems you have.

Karma is a bitch, isn’t she?

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