Addict in a Garden

by Christina Marie Dunbar
(North Carolina, USA)

Nothing was ever against my will, but the pain made the pain go away. This is a poem about my addiction to a narcissist...


I beg for the abuse.
Without caring if it's based on lies or if it is based on truth.
Consumed by manipulation and guilt
as much as I am
the sting from the welt.
Only it is not a sting.
It is a body wrenching pain
that vibrates every nerve.
And I lie there still,
or as still as I can.
Because in the end
it's what I deserve.
For letting anxiety build,
feeling unloved,
and speaking out of turn.
I am punished like a child
by a drunken parent.
Only there is no real consumption, only drunk with power.
As he rips away every peddle he loves, from his sad and wilting flower.
Soon I will have no peddles.
And my stem will die.
The backbone of my very soul
will succumb.
I will no longer be the light
or the rage
in his eyes.
And he will turn away,
as I am no longer what I once was.
And he will blame me!
Say I have changed!
That I no longer can love or be loved. But still,
I beg to have my peddles torn.
It is the only way he'll touch me. Only from removing the beauty
with which I was adorned.
The devil in my addiction
is no greater or lesser than yours.