I won't go back to the old days,

No one can drag me there.

I will wipe my hard drive, before I expose our files.

The memories we made together are hollow, and I am returning your seeds, 

They are merely accessories.

I will never discuss the four wheeling excursions, movie dates, or bike rides together.

If I could read palms, I would have known not to idolize you.

I will never utter your repulsive redos.

I stay mute about the abyss you promised day after day to emerge from.

More, than never, do I consider speaking of my adornment for you that died long ago.

I will not bother, with yearning for lost toys.

I will never disclose how many shattered pieces I picked off the floor, when I lost you.

I will never recall the day your fingers brought my flow of oxygen to a standstill.

You will never know I do not trust you.

I could never return with tags from the auction between you two.

My children will never know of our moonlight walks.

I will never speak of my tampered cocoon.

I will never admit I am not your daughter.