THE DANCE OF SPAR

I reached, but you
Stood unmoved.
My words floated,
Empty in the air.

Swallowed by a silence,
Too clamorous to ignore.

I am not a spectre,
Yet your indifference conjured one.

I must transcend my own being.
To decouple.
Disunite.
To seek and unravel,
The depths of your rejection.
And understand the wounds carved.

My first instinctive remedy is,
The dance of spar.

What delusion donates to you,
The belief of Superiority?

But is it supremacy,
Or an unsophisticated disinterest,
Or disfavor?

I inspected inside,
And found what I already hailed.
Connection fell to silence,
Not because I am so dreadfully valueless.
But apparently, you do not desire relevance.

This is your chronicle.
Shaped by your choice,
—Not mine to bear.

I do not need your approval,
To stand faithful in my identity.

I do not chastise my feelings;
I allow them to exist,
And recognizing my self-worth,
Comes from within—
Not from you.