– by Emily Callahan
I do not,
Gaze,
Into your eyes,
To see my own reflection.
Nor do I,
Measure,
My worth,
In your rejection.
I do not see your opinion,
As a beacon of truth,
Rather,
It is a reminder,
Of how low,
One can stoop.
Your beacon of truth,
Is a gaudy,
Mess,
Of sequin,
Showing the world,
Just how far,
You are,
From the deep-end.
But Looks don’t lie,
Neither do actions.
Defensive,
When one is attacking.
Your voice,
So grand in sound,
a powerful reminder,
Of why,
I don’t come around.
Yet the silence,
Of sorry unspoken,
No longer,
Leaves,
My broken heart,
Open.
For I have chosen,
To set your words free
Crafting,
An internal narrative,
That suits me.
