I Came To

Finding out that a respected, influential figure in your life is not the kind of person that you grew up believing them to be...

As many times as I have tried to understand

how you can survive in this haze of delirium and denial

is as many times as I have failed.

The veil, the wool over me eyes, the rose colored glasses:

in good faith, they lain where you placed them,

never stirred, never shifted, never doubted.

My other senses are sharper in spite of your attempts.

Efforts of good intent, be that as it may,

they are of no benefit or moral satisfaction.

I hear the structure of my surroundings collapsing.

I smell my memories burning.

I taste the death, the ruin of the person I depicted you,

and it clings bitter inside my mouth.

I feel nothing in the empty, silent cavern where my consciousness once resided,

in the loss of the resilience and faith that abandoned me when I came to my senses.