The Eighth Step (an angry, non-smutty poem by me)

I'm posting this poem on this blog because it's in response to a family member insisting on discussing issues about my childhood I raised in a poem I posted on a blog under my real name.  (Which is not to say a pen name is not a real name, but that's a philosophical issue for another day.)  Rather than getting into an endless unpleasant loop, I present:

 THE EIGHTH STEP

Confrontation

Is not all that. 

 

Forgiveness

Is not all that. 

 

Take your 8^th step

And choke on it.

 

Go to your higher power

And tell him/her/it/they

That I moved on so long ago

That the only thing left to forgive

Is you reminding me

Of what I survived. 

 

Person 1: 

 

The time my baby

Was in the backseat

As I drove you to the airport

And you mentioned offhandedly

That your program requires

That you seek forgiveness

And would I mind?

 

Why, yes, I would.

 

Person 2: 

 

The time you said

You don’t really remember any of it

But would I forgive you? 

 

Whatever. 

 

I slide away,

As I used to.

Then, I was biding time until I

Could build my own life.

Now I have.  

 

Note from Jasmine Gold: As the name of this blog indicates, I write erotica. Check out my dark, dystopian novel about naked sex slaves, Mindgames. Your darkest fantasies, with a phenomenal plot and characters you will come to think of as beloved friends. Available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited  and in paperback.  Or read my book of short stories about hot, consensual sex, The Mature Woman's Guide to Desire, available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.