Beware the perils of frank and careless talk;
keep those thoughts locked up inside your head;
speak your mind and lose the thing you cherished most.
At your own risk the sign of logic says,
but you’ve been driven over the edge this time:
further than you’ve ever been driven before.
The lies kept coming and try as best you could
to bite the tongue that bore the marks of biting many times:
when the words escaped no way to bring them back.
Stretch your fingers and retrieve them from the air:
the feckless hope. The words were out no way to be unsaid.
A weight had shifted from shoulders to your heart.
A carried weight for such a long and painful time,
but enduring pain was surely better than what lay in wait this time:
is this loss worse than being treated like a twat ?
I think not, it’s part of healing and the healing process:
before you mend a time of grief needs to be endured.
Never one to sprint, endurance is your game,
one breath one minute an hour and a day
are all too much now the grieving time has passed.
Move on and leave all the lies behind.
For that was a time of stress and constant worry:
you know nothing now of that life which clamped your heart
so tight blood failed to reach your head.
It’s in the past now never to rekindle
and that’s the way it shall stay: you won’t allow
that constant pain, the lies, to obstruct blood flow again.