Senex Claudius
The stirred muds of memory
Rise to the surface
How murky they are
How do they stain and stick
To cover old wounds
Some discoveries made
Long time forgotten
Or ignored
Festering new scars
Meeting the other
Hearing her truth
Putting a face on a name
Was it worth it
The dedication, the love
The everyday lies to oneself?
For he is vile,
For he is cruel,
For he is repugnant,
For he is a monster
There’s no where to hide
His love was a lie
Always been
And so was his life
What to do?
Forgive him?
I don’t think so,
He hurt too many
I’m not that generous!
Lucette C. Bailliet
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