Delusional

Delusional

The first time I knew that he called me delusional was on paper
crisp white with accusing, heartless black letters. 
They proclaimed me unstable, a dreamer, crazy
and far, far worse.

I did not believe them at first. Those hateful
labels set out for all the world to see. 
How could those ugly things be attached to 
him, to us, to we...to me?
I cast about for the why,
looking to understand the plan. 
I was joined to someone who always
had a clear set of directives. 
Yet I had been given none.

As time went by I came to realize
there was indeed a scheme.
It had been long in the making. 
I cannot tell you when this particular
dye was cast. I was not consulted. 
For it was my burial shroud they were
constructing. My opinion was not required.

They gathered around,
first one then another.
All came to proclaim their false love,
friendship, their support. 
Each inflicting their own deep
gaping wound. Sweet words 
delivered with a poisoned tongues.

Delusional they whispered.
In dark corners,
behind lifted hands,
with a gleeful eye and
joyful sneers.

All this time later I see the truth of it.
Indeed they were right. 
I believed them.
Their love, their friendship, their kind
words gave me false comfort. 
They gave me hope and strength.
I never doubted them, why would I?
You trust those you love unconditionally.

Clearly, I was 

delusional

When I said I was going to become a writer, this was the response. Well, I am going to keep writing. The only one that I have to accept is my own.