stranger than fiction
March 7, 2016 § 6 Comments
Intricate manipulations spun into a nonsense of fiction;
a dense narrative of false accusations and complete fabrications.
It is the remarkable my children know as normal;
the sensational that we experienced as unexceptional.
A practice of deception that demands
silence and breeds fear with a terrifying performance of harm.
Only, I’m not afraid – your threats no longer scare me.
I’m becoming more intentional in my reckless disregard for secrets
I am no longer bound by obligation to keep.
A web more unbelievable for its truth;
slowly unraveling into words.
For better for worse,
remember
I never promised not to tell.
Black widow on the wall,
I wonder if you’re scared at all.
scribblechic 
Sounds like an interesting encounter to bring up such words Marie 🙂
The past seventeen years I’ve been dancing between the light and shadows of a story just begging air – trying to decide how and when to unravel a most peculiar truth.
Then just follow your heart kind lady, it knows your truth 🙂
Feels like a step up for you. Love it.
Thanks, Andy. I’m so used to relying on my good girl values and Pollyanna perspective that it was sort of delicious to toy with a darker thread.
[…] afforded me the luxury of sounding out the shape of something new in complicated characters and fragmented storylines. Pieces of personal truth and creative license make for a colorful exercise in a well-loved […]