100 letters

Hundreds of letters, unopened, unread, Sent from Cranston, filled with words unsaid. Love and longing, poured onto each page, But met with silence, fueling my rage. Your eyes held lies, a cruel, deceptive game, My heart laid bare, treated with disdain. You asked why I’m frozen, why my spirit’s mean, It’s the ice you forged, a shield against your spleen. Those letters now rest in a forgotten fold, “Forever unspoken,” their stories untold. I gave you my heart, you made it sound cheap, Dismissed and discarded, my soul left to weep. I blamed myself, lost in the maze of my mind, While you watched me crumble, your pleasure you’d find. Weakened and broken, I fell into your snare, A trap of blame and shame, a burden too much to bear. But the fog has lifted, the mist has cleared away, Your lies exposed, I see the truth today. My eyes, once blinded, now see with piercing light, The shadow of deceit, lifted from my soul. The dimmed and flickering flame now burns bright and bold, No longer your captive, my story unfolds. This is my ride, away from your toxic hold, Though once I believed you were my forever to behold.