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The Grace of Silence

Once abhorred, now appreciated

By Colleen Millsteed Published 3 years ago • 1 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

She struggles with the incomprehensible silence,

After gifting you with life, love and support,

The distance is monumental and no bridge can now be crossed,

A once loving relationship effortlessly cut short.

**

Your narcissism has expanded to fill the void,

Thrown down in the gauntlet of pride instead,

The deafening silence of dreams and wishes,

Resulting in a heart and soul that bled.

**

Minutes turn to hours, to days, to months,

But unbeknown to you, time is no longer on your side,

Regret will be your mainstream future to come,

And I’ll be living life within my stride.

**

I’ve no guilt to carry as I did my best,

The choice was yours to rue the day,

I’ll survive — you should have realised that,

Because I’ve lived this lie, what can I say?

**

I was always aware you were never really mine,

You were loaned to me in my time of need,

A thorn in my side, set to trial and test me,

Teaching me how it feels to constantly bleed.

**

My duty was done with every ounce of my being,

I gave my all — which is how you almost destroyed me,

Would I do it again, if ever given the chance?

Yes, absolutely, but I’d protect myself to a better degree.

**

Sadly, I’ve come to love the silence and appreciate the distance,

Allowing the bulk of my life’s complications to drift into the past,

Simplicity adorns the smile that now graces my face,

And you, have become the side gig, the inherent outcast.

Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.

Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.

Originally published on Medium

inspirationalheartbreaksad poetrylove poems

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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    Written by Colleen Millsteed