I cannot forget what I will not say;
the words clot along my dry arteries.
The dust is difficult to breathe. I gasp
after what I want to be true, as if
through force of will I can change my life.
In swaths large enough to hide within, I
erase chunks of my stories. I forget,
or rather gloss over, all that I must
in order not to cringe in constant shame.
It is not that what I have done is wrong,
but when I am presented with a choice,
I take the coward’s way, the easy way,
and acquiesce with subservient smiles,
knowing all the while that I am a lie.
(September 8, 2016)
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