I’m left a wreck

on the shores of my yeses.

Boundaries broken.

Advantages taken.

Waves crash through

my common senses.

All those years

trying to please,

seeming contrite

but acidic with spite.

A simpering tongue

trips on a simple ‘no’.

A ‘yes’ is a syllable dumb.

A ‘no’ is a far harder blow.

For punishment comes

with the N and the O.

Survival means faking

a shiny tableau.