I know I said all the wrong words
I am sorry – I didn’t mean them,
but you…
You promised me love
The God-type of love
Not the love you have given me
When I dream, I remember
when you said that I come first.
Was that what you meant by
blaming me,
condemning me,
constantly reminding me,
Burning my skin with the wrath of your hand?
And what you say now
isn’t what you heard yesterday.
What I do know
won’t be what I do tomorrow
because the semi-fresh sting
of your finger tips is pulsing
now on my face, and I won’t let myself
hurt you like that again.
© 2010, Caela Strong. All rights reserved.
