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The one who had decades and the means to come for her and never did,

Whom she dissed in public for his selfish, childish purchases.

The one who pursues possession and wealth for its own sake,

Another who dresses like a total clown, trapped at the age of 12,

Plenty of money, no taste to speak of.

Publicly self-aggrandizing, egotistical, narcissistic,

Just like all the other ones.

The one who feigns charity but ensures it’s made public to reap the glory,

With the same sign of sun, some manner of...

Remember how you claimed that this was an open carrot three,

And lied about it later in your vain dishonesty?

Now it still has meaning, though its significance has shifted,

Now it means something else, a mark of time,

And there’s nothing good left within it.

I should have walked out the door of the room that day,

Uttered not another word, not given even the remotest benefit of the doubt.

She had set me up again,

A cruel way to crush me, instead of being honest,

And she’d still expected that I would fawn over her,

Continuing to pull my strings.

She’d crushed me before,

Nagging me for a confession of my feelings,

Only to stab me with them.

She had not deserved my fascination.

But I believed her profession of friendship,

Too thick-headed, too enamored of a...

His head would not stomp pounding,

The beat stolen from his heart that would never be healed.

The lies were permanent.

There was no reaching the soul that made them,

No earthly power that could break that obstinacy,

No caring in that heart.

He’d loved and lost himself.

He wished he could seal himself into a bottle

And cast himself into the sea,

Hopefully to be found by one with care for mystery,

And honesty, loyalty, … eventually,

Or to just drown.

Being valued was not your bag,

Having someone who saw you as human not your thing,

Instead you desire old grody hands,

With dirty money and a proffered ring.

With those grody old hands upon you,

You tell yourself it’s how it should be,

But it’s only self-debasement, turning screw,

And you should have listened to me,

For I only sought to save you,

From repeated mistakes pushed by your crowd,

And to love you without condition, so true,

But they were far too loud.

And now you play yourself again,...

Flirting with the immature, exes and exes of friends,

Men she knew to stay away from but did not,

With not an ounce of self-respect,

Reacting to crude whistles from those men with agendas,

Those who saw her as an easy in, a mindless toy,

Those who knew how to play her just right.

Desperate for attention from anyone already known,

Known to avoid, but incapable of doing so.

Recycled, interest only from availability.

And why else would they want her?

She never asked herself what their game was,...

Those great people you know, whom you cling to, listen to …

Friends, family, lovers … those whom you seek.

Why do they support proven rapists? Because they are that in soul.

They are rapists, in mind if not in action.

Why do they support child predators? Because the idea does not bother them.

They are child abusers, in mind if not in action.

Why do they support openly racist policies? Because that is in their hearts.

They are racists, in mind if not in action.

Why do the follow stunningly...

Though he knew a lot of things, without knowing why, and had an ability and curiosity to learn, though he had an intuition about people and their motives that had proven prescient so many times, the reality was that, when it came to hearts, he was dumb. Dumb as a rock. As much as he loathed what people tended to do, how shallow they were, and how vindictive, he always gave them the benefit of the doubt. Even when it should have been the last straw, he folded and sought peace over conflict....

Oh that card. Not the one sent by her later, after she’d lied to keep him trapped, that silent admission of guilt that was never followed up on, impetus either unreal and self-serving or buried after in spite. No, the card included in the pink bag. The one he’d given. She’d taken a photo of the name tag, a Valentine, and given them that to bolster her claims. But she had hidden the card that was inside, within the donation. The one that had wished her well and said goodbye. She had not shown...

He was not an angry person. He was a lover, a hugger, a steadfast friend, a voice of counsel and, when needed, criticism. He was a person who cared about what others ignored, and it left him disillusioned, wondering how other people could live with being so oblivious to what was indirectly harming them as well, ruining their souls. So he spoke up, blaming no one in particular. But speaking only got him labeled “angry,” a dismissal, an excuse to continue what they all knew was wrong but didn’t...

So sad the lengths some would go to to deny what was clear, to make themselves oblivious to stark realities. She was an expert at it, wholly convinced those she’d known for decades, and those they knew, were beyond reproach, family friends, former lovers … great people. But it was not difficult for an outside observer, anyone who bothered to look, to see things, to see that the mystique was only that … an illusion … and darker motives were in overabundance. Though the projections were all of...

Give me everything you’ve got,

Every undeserved ounce of hate,

Lay every bit of nastiness

At me feet outside my gate.

I take it all with pleasure,

For I know it’s based in self-deceit.

You can no longer harm me viciously,

With your baseless, cold conceit.

You do not deserve to live happily,

Your lies have earned nothing but strife,

But the universe will give you glee.

An ironic perversity of life.

But as you climb away from me

Remember well you’ve more to lose than I,

And one false step, one...

Such a canard, you think you’re winning a demented game,

But you’ve yet to see that you’ve lost it forever.

You may have been conniving and convincing and cost him greatly,

But you’ve cost yourself the most in the end.

You think you’ve won with your silence,

With your refusal of guilt, your condescending superiority,

But you fail to see that you’ve done everything he wanted.

He knows you better than you know yourself,

And you hate him most for being right,

And yourself for rejecting the best...

She’d been told once that she suffered from a pattern of falling for manipulative and abusive men, and, as women with her syndrome always did, she had balked and hated the one who had told her. But she had never learned, though she’d been through it enough.

Good men did not suddenly appear when it was most opportune for them, and they certainly did not magically grow interest and insert themselves into a grieving process. A good man would have kept his distance for at least a year following...

A diseased addiction

Having escaped —

One who was ugly,

One who was grotesque in mind,

One who worshiped possession,

One who hid behind the cross,

One who liked violence,

One who dressed like a clown,

An immature child obsessed with “family life,”

A gym addict to suit his narcissism,

A man who never should have had a wife …

A man so far beneath her.

And she turned around and found one just like him,

But even more of reject, even uglier,

Even more of a mismatch,

So far below her.

One who’d never...

It makes no sense to hide what will come to light anyway.

One only hides what one is ashamed of.

If you’re going through with it no matter what,

Where is the sense in secrets?

You owe him that much—pay your debt with it.

Give him the dignity of watching you ruin yourself,

For he has warned you, yet again, when he has no reason to,

And knows you will never listen.

You only listen to those you know, who know as little as you.

So give him the satisfaction of knowing your folly,

As you will pursue...

I found myself in love, but did not know how I got there,

Having never entertained the thought.

But proximity and the long-knowing, years of closeness, made their impact.

The way she sashayed and danced with the children,

The pleasant sent of her lotions, and the smile that lit up her face,

Making all her lines vanish.

The lack of pretention and the fact that she did not fuss over nails,

And when she pulled her hair to one side, sultriness without pretension.

Vulnerability, at first causing...

Oh the sudden interest …

And where was it the year before, or the year before that, or the year before that, or the year before that?

How long has the opportunity sat unwanted, passed on, as he searched for what he really wanted but couldn’t obtain.

Oh, no, only when grief struck … when loss took someone from you, then the interest grew acute, snaking in and using it to his advantage, suddenly ready to provide the shoulder he never did before.

Even one you call one of your closest left a thumb...

With few exceptions, they were all called John,

One John after another,

Same look—ugly—same values, or lack thereof, same obsessions with things,

Same worship of evil men, who had now exposed themselves as devils.

Same grotesque, infantile ego, hidden behind saccharine words that no serious person would utter—just fronts, ploys, covers for their impossible-to-hide narcissism.

It was in all of their eyes.

And all knew each other, because they were all the same, the same guy at base,

The same guy...

A soul belongs to the one it abused,

Enthralled in servitude.

No matter how much you try to give your heart and mind away,

Your soul is not yours.

An incel who now believes he’s a big man

Is a walking avatar of abuse.

That is his nature no matter how sweet his words.

Your union is like a dove with a weed whacker,

Mismatched in every way,

And you know it’s not real, forced.

Simply being alone does not compatibility breed.

He will turn on you before you know it,

Forcing another rescue.

It’s in...