Quiet Truths: A Prelude

Tonight, I whisper the quiet truths,

the ones I buried beneath forgiving smiles,

truths that fester in silence,

like wounds that never quite heal.

The moon watches without mercy,

its light as cold as the bitterness in my heart.

I cherished your words,

carved in stone, or so I believed.

But each one rose like smoke,

vanishing before I could hold it.

Still, I clung to them,

lost in the comfort of your voice.

And what of the moments you shattered my illusions,

wandering, lost in fantasies that excluded me?

Every time I forgave,

the tapestry of emotion wrapped me tight,

or blinded me.

But tonight, I see past the façade.

Your tricks, your half-hearted apologies,

your detonation-grade deceit,

all wrapped in the poison you dared to call love.

You once spoke of affection.

I wanted to believe.

But not all doubts are curable,

some fester until they rot everything good.

How many times must I cleanse the slate?

Your hollow words fail to even scratch truth.

Every promise, crushed beneath

the weight of this turbulent reality.

We both signed up for this twisted cycle,

a dance we once called devotion.

And I? I tossed in my heart again and again.

Was it love, or illusion?

You blurred the line,

and I drowned in every wave of it.

You wanted it all.

I surrendered spears wrapped in lavender skies,

meant only for you,

pieces that shimmered with untapped joy.

And you smiled

as you broke them.

And I, in my naiveté,

thought love could heal everything,

could stitch a fractured heart whole.

But now I wonder,

did you ever care?

Or was I merely a ghost you invited

to dance in your storm?

We exposed ourselves,

but forgiveness never claimed us.

You offered a future, blame-free from your end,

while I paid my dues to trust,

and was repaid in ruin.

You said sorry.

I didn’t believe you,

but I accepted it anyway.

I expected swords to cut the chains,

but found only a fortress

built from your lies.

I shattered the walls with bare hands,

yet the fragments cling to me still.

Love left me exposed.

And when I returned from the world of sin,

I risked the last of myself.

You never walked the sidewalks of trust,

only jagged trails

etched by scratched-out love.

Devotion demanded discipline.

You replaced it with charm and cunning.

Not a brick left untouched.

My soul screamed,

but only shattered silence replied.

Cut cords dangle.

Arms once folded in warmth now cold.

You didn’t flinch.

Even storms whisper your name,

and regret.

Tonight, I murmur the quiet truths,

the shards remain,

beautiful, dangerous,

dripping with what once was.

And still, I rise,

spinning toward sunlight

after a long, aching winter.

My refuge lies within now,

on a throne built of truth,

the very shield I once offered you.

Tonight, I whisper the quiet truths,

I can’t. I won’t forgive again.

I will no longer wait

for what will never arrive.

Yes, I stand here, shattered,

but in the fracture,

I found my edge.

And at long last…

I am free.

The Pen That Never Runs Dry

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