You pruned away what of me touched the light,
then scolded me for hiding in the dark
which choked me, smothered me from sight
of everything I longed for. Lark,
your silence was my hell. I never knew
how I should please you. Everything I gave –
my life, my blood, my words – did not appease you.
I could never fill the emptiness you craved.
The second-sweetest thing I ever learned
was that I’d never be what you desired –
and that I was my own. The growing lack
between us gave me wings, and though I burned
I flew beyond our crumbling bridges' pyres,
I'll take me back.
There was an opposites contest going on recently, for which one was to pick a piece one had made previously and then create its opposite, and which I missed entirely. This is what I would have written for it if I had entered.
It stands in opposition to "Steps Untaken".
Edit 07.03.2019: staying->hiding; also reworked the last three lines or so a bit.