Canah Tedjamulia

You are the perfect one to blame

For my heartache and confusion.

It’s so easy to tell the story

From my own entrenched illusion.

My belief was that if

I shared my heart with you,

You would treasure and care

For it as I think I do.

So when the pain of disappointment

Exceeds my power to endure,

Accusations are assigned

My “right”ness to secure.

It only takes a moment

For my conscience to prick me.

The breath in-between crumbles

My indignation so quickly.

Because in the next moment

After the story dies down

I realize in the pause

The spring that wells up

Lies down

Deep in a cavern of solid rock

In a place I rarely dare go.

It is in my own dark place of doubt

That I create

The betrayal of my soul.