Why does she forget, so easily,
memories like flood refuse
going down the drain,
as if our life never was,
did not cast a shadow,
dismissed as an exhalation,
a toxic shallow breath.
Yet within those years so many glories,
love and children growing,
joy now sullied by a darkness held,
and a blame so maliciously thrown,
I wonder if she really does forget,
like a selective amnesia,
and now she is so worse off,
she just can’t recollect.
Why hold onto a crisis passed,
when love was nurtured for so long,
and now as if an empty shell,
she is a victim of so much wrong,
yet she is the only one that sees it,
and blame lands not on solid ground,
just the vile darkness she brings
upon the backs of lies, and for what?
I have given up this pursuit of truth,
for hers is unlikely to ring true,
and I wonder if living in delusions brings comfort,
for it seems not from the outside,
and her obvious pain is shared so fully as a victim,
there is no room for love
or any other positive emotion,
just a pungent blame.
Tony DeLorger © 2017