Let us think the unthinkable, let us do the undoable, let’s grapple with the ineffable and see if we may not eff it after all. — Douglas Adams
Maybe you’re the ineffable I must grapple with, and maybe you cannot be effed with after all.
You broke me while pretending to fix me,
You walked away with blood on your hands, and smiled as you washed the best parts of me down the drain.
I was your victim. A hopeless tumbleweed in your tornado, and you showed no remorse, even when I begged you for just a shred of truth.
It’s not like I ever asked for an apology, because I knew you’d never be able to raise yourself to that level of sincerity, but I wanted to hear why you felt the need to cut me so deep.
You stood beside my bed and watched as I cried into the dip of the mattress and bled into every word I wrote in my diaries.
You said it was all for my benefit, and you only wanted what was best for me. I still don’t know why I believed you.
You’ve got the power, but you abuse it.
You possess the truth, but you don’t use it.
You manipulate those around you, and you beat them down, so they have no choice but to stick around and love you.
And after all you’ve put me through, boy, do I ever love you.
A Rambler In Bloom 