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    MacGreg
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Poems and Short Quips - 32. The Detritus

Each morning with the rise of the new sun,

I seek solace on the back porch,

Meditating and evaluating the rubble in my lap,

Wondering when it all came about:

the discontent

the wandering eye

the restless indiscretions

I fear it may have been there all along,

your skillful façade gaslighting my intuition,

Expunging my better judgment, bullshitting me

Such blatant disrespect for the Life we built together:

piece by piece

brick by brick

kiss by kiss

your proclamation that it wasn’t me, it was you

Was but a cowardly excuse, bereft of comfort

For how can I not doubt my place now…?

you extinguished crucial bits of me, quick and heartless

Without regard to the ensuing impact:

the fallout

the detritus

the gaping crater

Now, as I numbly pick through the scraps

Seeking evidence of trust and honesty

I am reminded that a Life paramount to me

Was but a place for you to exist in the interim

Until something better came along.

Copyright © 2017 MacGreg; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Ouch. Words definitely can hurt, and convey hurt. I can only infer here, and say I'm sorry that you had to write something like this. But it's a good thing to express yourself, and you did it well. 

No failure visible here, certainly.

 

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