The
iron shell is rusting, not from rain without, but from within.
I
wonder how many tears you have cried, how many nights this last week you spent
crying into your pillow, sobbing about the breakdown, the separation that has
come about, based solely upon your choice to commit to an action based in a
choice forced by your own misshapen perspective, manipulated and tainted by
voices other than your own, other than mine.
Voices
that do not seek the same goal that I do, voices that have altered your path
from the same goal we shared for so very long, or so I thought, but now I ask
you, did you ever think the same?
The
iron shell is rusting, not from rain without, but within.
Today I
shed no tears, not in sometime, not since your touch fell away cold and
infrequent, not since your rejection became the norm instead of the exception,
I've shed very few tears, though I've yelled and cried out into the sky,
shouting into the void of my pillow, staring into the abyss of the window,
questioning where I went wrong, wondering what it is I forgot or didn't do or
should do, not knowing what the answer might really be, due to your withdrawal
from me
The
iron shell is rusting, not from rain without, but from within.
Without
our outward imperfections I have manifest, they are but fringes frail
limitations of a simplicity, the peripheral of a core of a truth of a singular
part of the person I am, it is not the foundational aspect that you've taken
issue with or at least not that I can see, it is a falsehood an imperfect frail
facade, it is an incidental thing you have misappropriated, a result of
circumstance you have claimed as the result of intent implying something far
darker than even I would ever care to entertain.
But
then I must ask why, this is the question I have sought this is the answer that
I seek this is the singular query that opens the door to so many multitudes of
answers, it is the cornerstone that you have now denied me as you have denied
me yourself, myself and so much more.
The
iron shell is rusting, not from rain without, but from within.
"Remember,
you wanted this." I will say when the time comes, and the confrontation
that now builds is at last had, the truth inevitably seen. I tried to be
reasonable, I tried to bend, I bent and bent and bent but, I refuse to break
but I can now bend no more.
Maybe I was not dominant or assertive enough, maybe I should have led you
better, maybe I should have been harsher or more blunt, maybe I put too much
faith in you, maybe I burdened you with responsibilities you should not have
taken on, maybe in trying to make sure that you were free I in fact shackled
you to something far worse than myself.
The
iron shell is rusting, not from rain without, but from within.
Call me
heartless call me vain call me arrogant call me angry call me foolish call me
immature call me childish call me broken call me anything and everything that
you desire that you need to, that you must, to avoid taking the responsibility
onto yourself, ignore me in my pain, ignore me in my ruminations my
observations my opinions my perspectives, ignore me all that you wish, you've
done it before, you've been doing it now and it seems now you will do it once
again and so if I asked what even was the point, why even did you bother, what
was I to you except the convenient escape from a self-absorbed and narcissistic
tyranny that you have now embraced as your own?
The
iron shell is rusting, not from rain without, but from rain Within.
But you
don't see the rain within, you don't know where the water dripped and dripped
and dripped, you don't see the wound seeping oozing leaking eating away at the
rust, corroding and corrupting, damaging and wearing away at that which has
grown to protect that which you once said you treasured Above All Else.
Absolute
chaos is what you once called me, the sweetest burn you ever could know, the
sunrise the sunset the Sun the Moon and the stars, that which was most wild and
untamed, you know that which was most necessary yet inspiring, that which you
so desperately sought, that what you have laid claim, to have beaten down and
left broken in the middle of the road, drowned in its own rain, remember you
told me this, remember when you shared your hurts and your secrets and your
dreams, remember when you unlocked your heart for just a moment and shared your
most poignant observations of me?
I
remember, I remember it like a tree standing by the river, a tree beautiful and
strong, a tree now turned into only so much splintered lumber and firewood,
sawdust drifting in the breeze to disintegrate and to become no more.
The
iron shell is rusted not from rain without, but from within.
The
iron shell is my heart empty again, and the crimson liquid droplets are the
tears I can no longer cry.
