I hurt. 
That deep,
wounded,
aching feeling,
that I swore,
I would never feel,
Again. 
How dare you sentence me to this.
You, who have no idea what you've done. 
Or maybe you do. 
Is that why you blame me?
Do you say this, t
o ease your guilt? 
Should I pity you?
You who have wounded my heart,
erected a wall,
made me doubt,
that I have a beautiful spirit.
Should I pity you?  
Who could not see the peace
I held out to you,
with open arms.
With an open heart.  
My soul waiting to breathe you in. 
Yes I do pity you,
For you have lost so much,
and may never truly know it.

December 1999