Storms

Your words have become a dagger

Drawn swiftly across

My unsuspecting skin

Your words used to comfort me

Brighten me

Embrace me

What changed your words?

Jealousy?

Spite?

Anger?

I don't know what I did

Or said

To incite this in you

I have only loved you

Supported you

Encouraged you

But your own circumstances

Have twisted my intentions

And his

Into something as cruel

And hurtful

And mean-spirited

As the intentions of whatever loser

Is trying to drag you down

You won't admit this

But I know you

Your actions speak volumes

You project your pain onto me

You've done it since the beginning

I've grown used to your storms

Storms created by others

But I can't continue

To tie myself up

And allow this hurricane

Of your imbalance

To batter me to a bloody mess

I can't continue to be the paper

You test the sharpness of your blade upon

I can't be your whipping post

I'm not your therapist

Or your mother

Or your crying shoulder and listening ear

Anymore

For too long you've allowed your circumstances

To be a crutch for your shitty behaviour

You've sucked me dry of love and encouragement

And I feel like you've finally milked me for all I am worth

Your anger at me is simply because

You can't squeeze anything else from me

You're infuriated when I have nothing left to offer you

But who do you think you are

To try to shit on my happiness

Because you have none

And your joy is a lie

You think I don't see

You think I can't read between the lines

I know your sudden behaviour

Is only a reflection of your own unhappy life

But you will not bring storms

To rain on what I have

I won't allow it

But in all this shit that you've brought me

I truly hope I brought

Even a spot of happiness

To your miserable life

Even if it was at my expense

But I can no longer be that expense

I can't afford to pay for your misery anymore

I'm sorry you think so poorly of yourself

To allow yourself to be discouraged

Critiqued

As you say

But I think more highly of myself than that

I am worth more

Than being nothing but a convenient outlet

To channel your storms into

I am worth more

Than being used as a dumping ground

When your life has gone to shit

I am worth more than being

Your foul weather friend

Which you only reach for

When the storm clouds gather

I couldn't convince you

That you're worth more

But I won't allow your distorted view of yourself

To affect my own view of me

And no one

Not even the person who gave me life

Can change this view that I worked so hard for

So, what makes you think you can?