The winner takes it all…

I wasn’t impressed with my evil, venomous sharp tongue today.    While I have softened, let the harsh words melt for a while now, under pressure, forced into doing something I am not ready to do, sharped them like a knife blade.

 

Do I regret saying them, out loud, in anger?

 

I don’t think so.  There is still anger there and stoked enough to make me remember the incredible pain, makes my heartache raw again.  It isn’t something to keep inside.

 

I need to go up to bed.  But I don’t want to.

 

Just home from watching the most incredible musical, I can hear the words of Donna’s imaginary screaming out of my mouth…  with all the same frustration, pent up emotion but with my hot, raging, raw hostility and grief wrapped around it.

 

I don’t want to talk.  I really don’t.

 

We have both played all our cards.  But we have both lost.  And we have both won.  And I hope neither of us have an ace to play.

 

There are moments, when one of us is tall and one of us is small.  And perhaps that is our destiny?

 

I thought I belonged in the arms that he gave to another.  I was the fool.  He played me like a fool while I built a home, playing by the rules.

 

The Gods were cruel, throwing the dice the way they did, playing with our life.  We have both lost someone dear.

 

I can still see the image of the kiss on the lips that weren’t mine.  And I want to ask all the questions – did she kiss you like I used to kiss you?  And did she call your name, as I was calling you?

 

Yet I played by the rules. And I continue to play by the rules and it feels like everyone is watching us playing this marriage game.

 

So I don’t want to talk.

 

I don’t have any self confidence.  So little left.

 

I used to think I was the winner.  And now I feel like the loser, even though I have won it all.

 

abba

 

 

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