Old Haunts

It was a dependency
I was desperate to shake.
You made you seem necessary, necessity.
And I was but an accessory.
Then, when I felt secure, sure
you released your hounds,
blood thirsty and vengeful
sinking fangs deep in my flesh.

At your command, they would strike
again my body would tremble
and my image would break
until there was no recognition,
no fit to the pieces
of this mess you made of me.

I was empty, blank-
an imageless puzzle.
Nothing defining to bring together
the scattered remnants of life.
Perhaps a trace of fear,
but there was not even anger.
At least none like that
which I saw in you- and for what?
What had I done?

Was my being enough to spark rage?
Or was it something greater, the past,
that I was held responsible for?
I paid the price, was victimized
for silent crimes against you,
and felt infinitely responsible
because I still could not fix
what others had left behind, broken.

Did you at least feel better then? Now?
Are you more of a man now,
or do you still seek retribution
from another, or yet another
hurting them before they affect you?
Oh dear, I hope not.
I pray that it ended with me-
that whatever justice you sought
was won through tearing me down
(and perhaps then some).

You do not bother yourself
with me now, thank God.
What you wanted, you took anyway
so, not that you needed it, but
I grant permission; you can have it.
So go on, it looks like I
will be down here a while
sorting myself out once again.


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