My naked self will soon become apparent.
As I make my last swim through the lies and tears.
The violent waters are starting to subside.
I once gasped for air.
Now there's a calm elation.
It washes over me with the end in sight.
Exhausted and bloody from this doomed love triathlon m, I reach the shore.
I might be down but never count me out.
My life is ready to face one inevitable truth.
I chose to love you and hand over the keys.
To bow to your praise as you walked over me.
This one human red carpet has burst into a flame.
Despite allegations I'll be good.
In everything done without you.
Independently making my mark.
Blazing new trails.
Turning only momentarily to glance at the past.
Her brilliant pedestal made at my hands.
Came crashing down at the sound of selfish bellows.
It's a small personal victory.
Ending with me finally on top.
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
