Poem from the upcoming release, “Broken People” ©Lisa Hagan Books, 2016
It bothered him I had secrets he knew about, and even more he didn’t.
He wasn’t the one, after all those many years, I felt like giving my secrets virginity to, scorching his ego more than how I secretly laughed at, and loathed, his thirty-second erections.
I am the fool, because I stay. It is enough.
Treating me that way, the only way he knows but doesn’t see, twisting his thorny truths to fit flat in his palm of lies.
I am the fool because he stays. He is enough.
No, I don’t want to listen anymore! I can’t hear what will happen, what might change, meaningless letters dripping from his tongue, digging into my skin. Decades of faith lost inside my bones, I gasp at the sharp, messy realization of my mistake.
I loved him. Something so simple becomes so terribly complicated. I believed in him, and then I didn’t. Left to right, right to left, up and down, down and up, marching marching marching through endless days. Opposites attract until they collide and atoms smash, leaving behind an explosive mess of ashes and pain.
But we didn’t explode. It was more a quiet implosive retreat, patiently gathering my forces and wits, strategically placing every moment on my hidden board of fools, waiting, biding, holding each breath, pushing down every bitter verbal volley until I could finally, finally say it: leave.
I don’t want your noise
your patronizing cuts
your hands that touch me without feeling
your eyes that don’t see
your ears that don’t hear
your mouth that interrupts
your arms that don’t fold me in
your lies you believe
your lies you can’t see
your lies you don’t hear
your stories that have become so real to you
you don’t even realize they never happened
These were the secrets I held, and still hold, not for him, not against him, not because of him. No matter how long we are with one partner, we still have a secret inner life, desires that sustain us, folded up like paper hearts hidden in the deepest pockets of our souls. We fear the unfolding for what it will show, the razing it may cause, the cozy veneer of lies it burns away.
Fooling myself no longer.
I am enough.