The Words I've Refused To Say

A couple of years ago, I went through an extremely complicated friend break up that spiraled me into a different type of depression that I had never felt before. I will not be getting into the specifics, but while I was recovering, I wrote lots of poems and even had plans to format them into a book.

I had a plan for three parts. The first part was going to be titled "Anger," and this portion of the book was initial reactions as I was beginning to process what happened to me. Here are a couple of those.

Our Shattered Mosaic

Wading through a sea of broken promises

Shards of glass seep through my skin 

As the reflections illuminate our past.

In our union, broken pieces melded. 

A mosaic beneath the unforgiving sun.

The vibrant hues masked our pain. 

When you began to crumble further

I dismantled myself. 

A sacrifice to complement 

Your fading radiance. 

Rose-colored glasses

Tinted with pride and trust

Had me confident that I’d always have you

So I was blind

And I was satisfied with my penance. 

I bared my soul to you

Stripped to my most vulnerable parts. 

I stood exposed

Authentically me, reflected in you. 

In an abrupt motion you shattered me,

Fracturing our mosaic beyond recognition. 

You siphoned my essence, using it as glue

To reshape it to exclude me

And fit your own design. 

While you rebuild

I watch from the sidelines with nothing

But splintered remnants etched into my skin.

I hate you.

Anger courses through my veins.

Heat that could burn flesh

Scalding through the novocaine

A fire remains fresh.

Resentment solidified

Hardened into stone.

Anxiety is amplified

When I face the one I’ve known.

Tension grows thick enough to cut

With the scissors I have broken

In frustration of what

Has been unspoken.

Hatred is a tree that grows within me

Roots lodged into my heart.

The fruit that sprouts inevitably

Poisoned and bitter from the start.

Hidden Message.

Funny how life works

Useless pain just to spice things up

Cover us in experiences to give us flavor then

Kick us to the curb.

-

Youth stained with disillusionment

Our teenage years are ravaged

Until adulthood where the agony persists.

The second part of the book was titled "Loss," and it explored the realization that my friend and I were never going to be the same. My friendship was gone, and I was mourning it. I'll only share one from this section, as the others go deeper into the specifics of the situation than I am willing to share. You'll see that, during this time of mourning, we did have a brief conversation that had given me a taste of hope before I was left to rot in my mourning once again.

Storm has spoken.

Overwhelming dread seeped into my stomach.

Your message was an unexpected tempest.

Tears began to blur my focus.

The brooding storm of resentment that had been brewing

Hurricaned through my soul as conflict bared its teeth

And clawed into my fragility.

I attempted to stand my ground, tell you no

But your winds whisked me away

And we briefly succumbed to old habits

And gave our story an epilogue.

The winds began to settle down

And a hesitant clarity emerged.

I questioned the fairness of my accusations.

In our parting whispers, you reminded me

Of the significant impact I left in your world.

The skies poured as we said our final goodbyes.

You retreated into the mist

As I fell to my knees into the sodden earth.

My sobs mingled with the thunder

And my tears mixed with the raindrops.

I watched until your silhouette faded.

As I had previously stated, this project was supposed to have three parts. However, I never got to write part three. I never even got to name it. I wanted it to be poems I wrote after I healed. It was going to be positive, motivational, and happy. I never got around to writing it because even opening the project made me feel a sense of dread. Additionally, the other parts were so small, that I didn't feel it was long enough for a sufficient book. This project never came to a close and has been sitting in my Google Docs for about three years now.

This was the first time I've opened it in a long time.

With this opportunity to share my unfinished works, reading this back inspired me to write something for this third section that I'll call "Resignation."

The Me I Left Behind

Soaring through the skies, I fly.

Passing our old hangout spots

and the things we never tried.

Umbrage comes and goes,

but the air is clear of the noise you made.

You were an anchor with a weight you hid in the dirt,

pulling me down to drown with you,

before jumping on my shoulders to use my sinking body as your escape.

I survived your grasp

And am done holding you up.

Now, you’re nothing to me but digital dust:

a scrolling memory that I can skip past with a thumb.

Although I may never finish writing this poetry book, it is probably for the best. Thank you for your time!