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.