In certain quiet, deep moments of night’s blue-black,
My inner, hidden masochist shows her face.
Tip-toeing the thorn-filled memory lane,
Searching for my sadist, once again;
Who says we can never go back?
With each silent, slipped tear of melted ice,
I wonder if you ever think about me?
Do you ever regret the pain you caused?
Do you miss the ‘forever’ your actions lost?
No, for YOU, there WAS no sacrifice.
Bitter dregs of a sad, long-poisoned past,
As much as I hate you, I love you still.
We were perfectly imperfect for one another.
You were a child, and I was a mother.
And I swear each tear for you is my last.
What my masochist doesn’t seem to understand,
Is that I’m much stronger now, than I was with you.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t miss you sometimes,
And wish you were different, on the inside.
Love and Hate are one, in the Sadist’s hand.
If I can ever purge the sick need for this pain,
I can exorcise you from this nostalgic heart.
My sadist, my stumbling block, my lesson,
Still incomplete, and tired of guessing,
Unsatisfying answers; my curiosity’s bane.
~ C.L.R. ~ © 2009