Day 9 …. The Inevitable
Anger: So now you come to me, for what? To tell me how I’ve done wrong said wrong been mistaken. It’s like a rerun of Friends rewatching old episodes there’s nothing new. Ross will never get over Rachel & Joey still won’t share food. I’m always to blame always the villian. Because I am Anger, the rage the fire the furnace. The Ying of happiness and Yang of Love. I always have fingers pointing at me taking aim. Target practice forgetting there’s four more point right back at yourself. Forgetting that you took advantage of me and then tampered with me. Placing me on the bottom of the roster.
Poetry: Why would I call you? When I all I get from you is passive aggressive charming witty spell binding mystic bullshit. You filled me with a hate I never knew I had. The type of hate that makes Luke turn to the Dark side. The type of hate that has me dreaming of your demise. Dreaming of ways I could execute my pain, taking slices out of Chocolate. Piecing you back to like a broken art piece. You made me forget me, you obliterated my memories . It was amnesia I couldn’t recollect how I came to this place. How I was wandering aimlessly through the ruins and forgotten cities. Forgetting what I was. Am I an entity, a forgotten species. Disregarding who I was before you came into my life. Yes it was empty, I didn’t have a lot just a few soft furnishings. Didn’t have that spark, the fire that now burns everything and everyone. I live in the flames in every flicker and burst I am there. Reelingon what you had said or done that left a scorch mark on my soul. A branding that wasn’t meant for me. You have burnt the very foundations of my being, you broke the columns of my heart. Torched the sketches of me.
Anger: Mother always said you shouldn’t play with fire if you didn’t want to get hurt. Don’t poke the bear out of hiberation. Don’t try to tame the beast when it’s already devoured its past masters.
Poetry: I never tried to tame you. I opened my arms under the fire of your arrows, like the 300. I was ready to lay my life down for you. But you had laced your weapons with poison.
Anger: No wait a minute.
Poetry: No I’m not finished. You left me at my most vulnerable, left me to pick up the pieces of our picture. That were faded and torn. Crumpled in a box of what was passion. The sentiment had gone, had lost the tangible sense of love. You had diminished the very fibre of everything you ever gave to me. You tored the thread that tied our souls together. You were the weak link that broke the chain that anchored out ships together. You separated us, we are just two ships passing each other in the night. The master and his servant. The musician and his backup singers. The teacher and his student. The glove and the hand. The mother and her child. The Love and the Hate. The Poet and the poem. The inevitable always happens. One always leaves the other behind.
Sincerely Yours
Isha A Poet xxx
