I remember you with arms folded and legs crossed,
Steady composure.
Just listening, attentively, interested,
I’m sure.
Yet waiting,
For a shield-less moment ,
To strike with bitter, poison- pointed spear.
I thought you were wisdom and intelligence themselves,
Talent and creativity in miniature human shapes.
Gods’ likeness, your mother’s pride.
A compliment from you,
I have cherished, nurtured,
and have not yet forgotten.
The insults,
have formed my very being,
rendered me once unfit to please the world.
I see you now like you saw me:
“tortured soul“, “genius”…
Yet how untrue on both accounts are those accusations,
Traits I could never prove.
For you, though, I think you wear them well.
I think if you took them off you would be,
Too real to recognise.
So with them on I accept you.
I will make my peace with you,
And that is all you’ll ever have from me.
You will not have hate, bitterness and anger.
I wish you had never been eaten by your ghosts,
So by your example I will not be eaten by mine.
I will not walk in your shadow.
And if one day you do paint your walls your favourite colour,
If one day you clear your bed side locker of self-help books,
If one day you wear jeans and a pink shirt.
And if some day, one day, you buy her gold, because nothing really matters,
That day, I will come round for dinner,
And not because I’m hungry.
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Submission Name: Not In Your shadow
