Lately, I am so angry. There is so much anger within me that I don’t know what to do with it. Anger fringes the words I speak, the actions that I take. It leaks from my personality, becoming the constant embellishment of the life I lead.
I don’t want to be angry anymore.
The evening is grey where she notices the rose bud has bloomed into colour, contrasting greatly against the dull garden shed.
He promised it all, delivering flowers and whispering “believe in miracles” into her fragile ear. Sending his darkness to grow within her heart.
Often the addict doesn’t realize she is trapped until it is too late. Trying to pull away, dragged back to the ground by her own words, twisted into ropes that cut deeply into her skin.
Her angels might take pity and offer a hand of rescue, she would see only phantoms and spectres in their place. Such his darkness fogged her perception.
And as the blossom of his true agenda opens, she has become like the garden shed. Dull and lost behind the dramatic display of an ephemeral rose.
Her cruel ex-lover sending shadows still from across the ocean.