I remember you saying to me
in the midst of one of our many fights,
that perhaps my problem was
that I, unlike you,
controlled my anger,
that I didn’t just let it go,
and maybe, just maybe,
I think on it now and then,
and I laugh.
You had no idea what you were asking for.
You have never seen me angry,
truly, deeply angry,
with the kind of rage that summons
and releases the vast arsenal at my disposal,
the rage that will find each and every one of your soft spots,
your insecurities, and your Achilles heel
and destroy you.
Only one person has seen that,
and he is tied to me by blood,
cut me deeper than words can say,
and I returned the favour in kind,
as well as any twelve year old could,
with my limited selection of weapons,
I wanted him to weep, to burn,
and I have never tried to undo that damage,
but I know,
I chipped away at his core.
And now, years later,
you ask me to do that to you?
You’ve no idea what you’re asking me to unleash.
There is a darkness that courses through me,
an arsenal of words,
ready to slip inside and tear you apart,
with hidden barbs,
inciting a reaction,
getting you to destroy yourself.
I once told you that I could eviscerate you,
if I let myself,
and you showed me,
that you lacked the same control.
I could pick from one of the daggers,
the arrows, the swords, the knives,
desperate to be flung,
desperate to sink in,
to hurt, to wound
and I know it would stay for years.
I have an arsenal at the ready,
of words, of the power they carry,
so ready to scar, to hurt,
because after all…
they’re only words,
so what do they matter?
I will smirk as that wound is ignored,
as your feelings are thrown in your face
as justification for the invisibility they subject you to.
After all, you’ve moved on,
why should one well placed word
tear down everything around you?
It is so much easier to be cruel,
than to be kind,
so much easier to find weapons
than to build shields.
You have only seen me use the arsenal
as a safety net, as a defense,
keeping your barbs at bay
but never retaliating,
you would not have survived that.
But perhaps you were right,
Not that I needed to let go completely,
I can’t live with that guilt,
But that I need to let anger in,
to let it course through me
and channel it into something
beautiful and productive.
I needed to trust that there was something in the chaos
and now I do,
but don’t ask me to let go completely,
I have a sense of decency,
of understanding that you never had,
and I refuse to do that
to someone I love.