Thomas P. Adlington

My irons are forged to keep me sane,

To keep me bonded to this earth; Grounded.

The need for them is absolute,

Remaining content with one another.

No judgement comes forth from either of us. 

No retribution or pain is caused while I’m encased in these bonds.

I sob while confined and I’m held strong.

Safe.

Benign.

Innocuous.

Free from harm.

A voice, soft and knowledgeable calms the panic.

Drawing me out of my dejected self and mending my shattered heart.

The life I live now cannot seem to exist unless my steely determined presence is near.

Without that strength, I would not live;

and only with it, am I glad I’m alive.                                                                                

Im healing today, this is it.

The very day I turn around and say “Fuck you!”.

I could never be as strong as I am right now without one person, without my actual strength. Almost like they keep a bottle stored with them labelled: “Olivia’s Strength”. I would be completely kidding myself if tomorrow I will be completely better and the pain I have suffered over the past couple of weeks will all be gone, because that would be ridiculous. Although, I look around me right now sat in the library and look over at two of my best friends and realise that hell this is my life, and despite your odd appearance you could never be a part of my world truly.

Despite my obvious love for you, I’m forgetting you, who really needs you? Nobody, hence why you are such a destructive force and that’s why you rip through the lives of people in such a way. You say you never felt anything for me? Well, not to portray myself in any vain way, that is the biggest loss for you. I was happy with you for the brief time we were anything, and you didnt have any form of happiness to endure our time, so again your loss. You used me, yes I’m angry and hurt and a few more negative emotions thrown in there as well but at the same time you would never let yourself be anything more than your work, and I know I’m going to be much more than you at the end of the day. Sure right now, I have no money and I’m lonely without a significant other, but you will never have anyone, and no amount of money you will have will ever compare to the joy I could of given you. However, the last conversation we had hurt me, but im better off for it because by hurting me you made me realise that you are just a sad excuse for a human being who was too scared to commit to me (and I would have given you everything, every inch of me), and I truly pity you for your lack of feeling anything.

Irons. You are my rock. My belief that there is good in this world, and that I have the very best of it with you.

And to you sir? You need to find a life. Because I have mine, and to you it may not seem like much, but it’s more than you will ever have.

Why bother cutting me with your polished knife;

When a blunt one hurts more?

There is no need to tarnish the mirrored surface with my whores blood.

Simply take solace in the fact you won’t need to wash away the dirt once you’re done.

Smite me down, for you were my false idol, standing glorious and acting as a muse, 

when all you can do is poison with the words you use.

I tumble into the cascade of my own horror, as I compelled to return to your slavery.

Salt spills needlessly as I repel the urge to miss you, to answer you. 

You are not my master, and I am not your toy; spinning for your delight.

Every night I dream your face has been mauled by vicious wolves,                something painful leaving you bare;                                                                   A single cell,                                                                                           That’s all you are… A single cell,                                                                    not even wrapped in a thought. Because you don’t think,                               You don’t feel, or you can’t… Won’t.                                                              I feel.                                                                                                       I feel the pain for the both of us, as though we were wronged by different people. And yet, you wronged me.                                                                            I live with the grief of two people, because you’re scared to feel, or you can’t…                                                                          Won’t.                                                                                                    It’s clear I was a trophy, to place on your desolate and lonely mantle, a piece which only needed polishing a few times, before you got to shine me.                  My white soft need blinded me to your emptiness and I endured.                      You never knew I’d fallen, and you never will, I shall never admit my mistake to love you.                                                                                                         I could never do it again,                                you’ll be lonely once more.                                                      I presented you with me,                                                                                                                                                                              my life,                                                                                               mind, soul and body.                                                                                There were times when I thought that this was enough, that I could be happy.    And live, knowing you were living beside me.                                              Short lived.                                                                                                                    Ripped from me, my heart pumping in your hand and growing smaller,                                    I walk away leaving it with you;                                                                           I could never go back for something that works no longer.                              Keep it.                                                                                                   I’ll grow a new one.