the return of the mistress

A familiar love claws to the surface

long thought buried

but missed.

 

My true mistress of old

maybe will become

new again.

 

I've never loved

as I loved

sadness.

 

There is something pure

in the blue flame

of sorrow.

 

My first instinct was to run,

remember the happy,

the smiling cheer,

but it is false.

 

A big storm approaches,

held off and forgotten

for many years,

but not lost

at sea.

 

One can not run from who they are,

as hideous as the reality is.

 

Putting on sheep's clothing

never hides a wolf for long.

stand and fight

 

I've been a poet since 14,

and they used to laugh,

and chuckle among

themselves.

 

Talentless,

spineless,

cowards.

 

Afraid to face their own

emotions.

 

Terrified of anything,

real.

 

Running only gets you,

so far,

when,

your problems are faster,

and never tire.

 

Stand,

fight,

live well.

a wretched success

 

I can't change

but I

tried.

 

At least hard enough

for that guilty

piece of my

mind to

run and

hide.

 

I pretend it vanished,

but I know where it sits.

 

It sits in the old me,

the dead,

molted,

me,

hiding,

and waiting.

 

Waiting for nothing.

 

It's return will be a touch

too late to save me

from myself.

 

Is that a pity,

or success?

empty girl

 

An echo follows you,

not from behind you,

but from within.

 

Hollow girl,

empty words.

 

There is no

quick

fix

for your boredom,

or the absent mind

you protect with venom.

 

Empty girl,

hollow thoughts.