Poetry- Words Not Spoken In Anger, But With Greed

They did not,
though they said they would.  And the threat,
once spoken,
would not go away,

but festered
and sickened those dreams I had.

So they left first, though in truth
they were never really here.  It was only
those stakes with pink ribbons, set like grave markers
that showed their presence.
It was I
who left.

And these years since
when it seemed all this had been forgotten, or never been, or been discarded, it was I
who had been sleeping, I
who had been…
                          not forgotten, but left
to rest
deep within the cocoon
of those dreams
I myself had abandoned.