[Untitled]

I couldn’t even be spared a page
In your first publication.
Nor, I imagine, a thought
In the last decade.

You spoke often of your own grief,
Of the sorrow he gave you,
But not a word of the torment
You inflicted upon me.

I suppose it is easier, more convenient
For us, to dwell on ourselves.
Other people are, after all, an eternal,
Unyielding, inscrutable mystery.

Except for you. You were never
A mystery to me. I wonder
Sometimes, late at night, if you
Have ever imagined

Ever imagined how earth-shattering
How heart-wrenching, how
Blood-curdling and mountain-crushing
You were to me.

I wonder if you know that my life
Changed forever because of you.
That my path, my destination, my
Destiny, were all eternally destroyed.

I wonder if you know that when I heard
That he so foolishly abandoned such a precious gem
I wept uncontrollably; I screamed; I bellowed;
And I raged against god

I wonder if you know, that my one desperate prayer to Him
Before I forever turned my back on Him in spite and fury
Was that He never let you feel the pain
That you had gifted me.