Poetry- Words Not Spoken In Anger, But With Greed

They did not,

though they said they would.  And the threat,

once spoken,

would not go away,

but festered

and sickened those dreams I had.

So they left first, though in truth

they were never really here.  It was only

those stakes with pink ribbons, set like grave markers

that showed their presence.

It was I

who left.

And these years since

when it seemed all this had been forgotten, or never been, or been discarded, it was I

who had been sleeping, I

who had been…

                          not forgotten, but left

to rest

deep within the cocoon

of those dreams

I myself had abandoned.

8/30/11