When you put the word love in your mouth,
All I feel is rage.
When you tried to touch me in an affectionate way,
Without your insanity,
Nothing ever felt so detached and artificial,
Copy paste, love is something that you didn’t pass on,
Didn’t convey, you never received it in the first place.
And I feel your empty hands on me
And I want to set them on fire.
You have always felt like an emptying threat to me.
Like poison telling me the worst things
When you should have kept your mouth shut.
Taking these grand emotions into your mouth,
Your daily vocabulary, your act, the pseudo-grandeur,
Without backing them up with actions, with truth,
You don’t know what they feel like and you pretended
Because you needed, you told me lies because
You wanted to appease and manipulate me into your arms,
Again and again, and I let myself be devoured,
Let myself be drowned in your endless monologues
And you took everything for granted,
Portraying yourself as both the hero and the victim
And every time I told you how you made me feel inside
You looked away in disbelief, as if I hadn’t said a thing.
Your love is a beast of the opposite nature.
The worst kind of absence, the worst kind of presence.
You’ve made yourself known.
Everybody I ask tells me the same lies, weaves the same romantic
Picture of who my father was.
And I can see them swallowing their own pain,
Their own truths like fire,
Casual self-betrayal.
I stood by you as a child
When I would have needed a father
Who protected me instead of exposing me
And terrorising me into his unnatural arms.
Croque-Melpomene 