I realize I may never fully recover
From his fake concern.
I was too slow for Narcissus, the sociopath.
Fourteen years on the other side of
black eyes and tear-stained torment.
I am quick to snap.
My biggest fear is that he won.
That I was lucky. If given the chance,
I am doomed to repeat the cycle.
My instinct still screams at the review.
My writer’s voice treks down a crowded path.
On a mission to engage my readers
to keep following my posts and commenting.
Meanwhile, the wheel of time zooms by.
But unlike the swift white hare,
Speed is not my means of survival.
I cross the road with cautious respect,
And rubberneck the gawkers,
Less wary now, on the journey back
to peace and happiness, which
Compels me to regurgitate on this
And perhaps some duckweed.
As I bask beneath the sun,
Contemplating my umbilicus
Atop a moss-covered log
In the bog.
…
Cornelia DeDona 12-16-25
Leave a Reply