Renaissance

You gave me a hushed whisper of a lie.
It shreds the tangles of what has rendered my heart to a nothing.
It’s not really a heart, it’s just a cocoon.
A cocoon in which in which every single solitary memory is tenderly held
until meaning has little evidence of affection.
That little cocoon is all I have after all
of the unconventional events that have occurred.
Through the storm, it shook, but it held.
Through the pain, it shambled, but never yielded the pace.
Through the heat, it shriveled, but stood the ground it was given.
Through the renege, through everything,
The remnant of my cocoon is strong.
Though stuck in just a cocoon, it’s renaissance
will give rebirth to all that was ever held back.
Through the glassy, vapid eyes you held, I repined.
It’s your turn.
In the end, you won’t have the luxury of saying all I do is for you.
It never was and it never will be.
This time it’s final.
The taste for vengeance is unbearably thick.
My cocoon, the heart inside, the puncture that was made
was made to make it stronger.
It vanquished over every obstacle,
including you.