“Drifting on the springtime breeze, watching the snow caps recede from the mountains, listening to the river flowing past me, swaying to the music of growing things…
Each day passes, passes, like the movement of a glacier…
Yes, I knew you would appear to feast on the remains. I once thought you were an eagle, but now I see you are a vulture. Picking me apart till my bones are bared to the sky… Come swooping in when the coast was clear, when all rivals to my heart were safely out of sight… Didn’t take you long to stake your claim, but what makes you think I belong to you? What makes you think I would take you in my arms, after all the pain you and your kind has brought me?
Go scavenge someone elses broken heart you filthy dog, just because I am broken does not mean I am an easy catch… A wounded tiger is much more dangerous than a sated one, don’t forget that boyo.
Yes, I am alone. Yes, my bed is empty. Yes, I stroke my pages at night for the lack of comfort, but that does not mean I would ever make the mistake of running to you… Again.
Keep that poetry to yourself, all those pretty words that tease and tempt me. Keep your green eyes out of my pages, out of my thoughts, out of reach and away from temptation. I was clueless enough to reach for a hand once, and it was burned and spurned… I will not fall in the same rut again.
I need no one to hold me, I can hold my own.”