Fake.
Such a damning adjective.
And until now, I hadn’t realized
just how much it hurts.
What else would you have me do,
sweetheart?

All I’m doing
is trying,
buying time,
and avoiding awkward areas,
distressing situations.

You’ve got me rocking broken in the corner.
And you don’t even know.
Or seem to care.

Sitting on the other side of this fence…
I’m enlightened,
disheartened,
and now,
disillusioned.

Sounds of pain fill my thoughts.
The word itself even.
It just echoes;
paaaaaaiiiinnn…

If I could, I’d do it all over again.
All of it.

Change everything.
Mostly for you.

And you don’t even know
my suffering.

I can’t wait to go home.

(c) Copyright 2016 Molly

Amanda Graham

Amanda Graham

Editor at NY Literary Magazine
Amanda holds an M.A. in History. She loves well-written poetry and romance novels. Amanda has 2 cats and a 3-year-old son.
Amanda Graham

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