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2.3
May 23, 2021

Shoot from the Hips – Poem

Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.

I don’t want to be enslaved,

To this push-pull every other day,

Because you’re too afraid,

To take off the mask,

from whom you try to portray,

Inconsistency is the path, of breadcrumbs that you lay,

To a prison called toxicity,

Where someone once, tried to make me stay,

…………………

But, I’ve lived there before,

Covered in love notes, love bombs, and late-night-knocks on the door,

Because he needed to be sure,

that I was locked in,

Before he could turn that tide,

Those words like knives,

And keep me lapping at his shore,

He placed those morsels of kindness expertly apart,

To keep me coming back for more,

Not so many that I might actually feel secure,

But just enough, so that Love became rationed,

And he could blame me, for the score,

Love was a roller coaster,

That left me war-torn,

And I fell, hook-line-and sinker,

His tactics unbeknownst to me before,

You might call me an overly trusting unicorn,

Sparkling, never doubting, those fish tales or fake reports,

And so, I slipped,

Through that hole that he dug in the floor,

Words thrown down on my head,

Of which he had an endless store,

So that he could keep me as his very own (w)horr-endous,

It’s not that I didn’t try to end this,

De-valued, and disgraced,

So many lies he’d say straight-faced,

Bold as daybreak, but hate-laced,

Until I was wasted, frozen in haste,

Cowering under his volume and red face,

Even the simplest conversation became a race,

My heart would pace just mentioning his mistakes,

That all of a sudden…

lead to a high-speed, mental-chase,

And truth disappeared, without a trace,

………………………………….

As he would throw distractions,

I would dodge,

Holding fast to the heart of his actions,

But somehow, I always dropped my map,

And lost my traction…

……………………………………

After the game of charades,

He’d finally look up and say:

“It’s a shame, you never want to talk about things,”

Just to make sure reality nose-dived into a grave,

All these false statements leaving me blank in the face.

…………………………………….

You see, talking, heart-to-heart, is my passion,

But this discourse was destined,

To a detour of dead ends,

His masterplan, in action:

To tank the conversation without due satisfaction,

Now, it was suddenly Opposite Day?

When I tried to convey those Coming Attractions,

Every train of thought derailed,

Sabotaging any logical reaction,

Because that’s what he wanted,

And I just got exhausted, my attempts to connect accosted.

……………………………………

To look back wasn’t “cute,”

Amid the verbal abuse,

It didn’t matter anyways, because my voice was on mute,

But I thought to myself, as I felt more astute,

“Those nails he threw out, almost ended my pursuits,

And there’s nothing to say now,

Because he cannot compute truth,

Any feedback that challenges his power-absolute,

Is shot down and dismantled, to disable dispute,”

……………………………………

So, new friend, beware,

If you start laying down crumbs,

Pushing and pulling,

I might pick up my guns,

I shoot from the hips now,

Before it’s ever begun.

LISTEN to the Author read the poem here:

https://youtu.be/94o5oK1MGuU

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