Just Go!

Must this be your definition of sweet revenge?

Selling you out is what you perceive this to be.

Falling into you is what blurred my initial vision.

Not seeing you as the optical illusion you are.

Timing is everything and no I can't sit back

and watch your demolition of my spirit.

While I do get high off your words, it is

not in my design to pronounce you the

narrator of my destiny, nor can I

apologize for the chemical memories

you find necessary to cling to.

It's about choices, and for the caption

of your existence you choose stardust fiction.

But don't bore me with your morbid

dialouge of broken dreams and drench

me with acidulous musings meant to

stagnate my decision to end us.

Count me in when you get over yourself.

You've taken me down this road many

times and even as you remain the bane

that seek to eradicate my sanity, I

stand before you untouched this time.

The " Dorian Gray" picture you desire

to portray is merely the traffic light

green pessimism your heart feeds upon.

I am not your medicine, I don't have

the cure that will release you from the

parasitic demeanor you now elected

to adorn. Call the paramedics to

escort you to reality. Dream no more.

The fall of your reserve has not

the license to hinder the spring

of my banter or the sway in my hips.

Don't you see how your supermassive

need for control has led to losing

what was in your grasp all the time.

Was it curiosity,( because now mine is

piqued), that made you take your

lawnmower over to the perverbial

greener lawn while my wiltered in rejection.

Correct me if I'm wrong, was loving

you imaginary or an emergency.

Let lightning split the irony of the

litany you recite upon bended ego

as you play the martyr of this defunct

affair, a dish now served cold.

Nothing equips me with the fortitude

 to carry on this farce a trace further.

The gods sustain me for I am not done

yet, they continue to shine their brilliance

into this shaken and stirred core.

I offer no false hopes, I make no empty

promises for I am absent from all guilt.

I tried, I died trying, now you must try

to imagine just how finished I am with you.

Remove the mask that hides your indescretions,

the masquarade can cease.

What started as always, dies now as nevermore.

Leave me, not as you found me, but leave me,

able to paint the nails of the hand I fan with,

the dignity I possess, my last breath of civility

and just go!

Marjorie Joyce Leslie

06/12/09