You get sick with the feed
the drip dispense
of the jealousy,
rage that snakes
inside of your eyes
lies down beside your love
and dies there
tangled in her flesh.

You had choices
when you pulled away.
You make your decisions the whole way through,
feel justified with every step,
and anguish when you realize
where you've gone.

There's every excuse in the world to feel right
(but what good are they
when what used to be yours
could be his
right now
every second that you lie alone
in your big empty bed?)

You spend the nights awake.
Sometimes you bawl
and then dry heave and sweat
on the sheets that you shared with her.
Things that used to be "ours,"
now "his"
and you wonder why this won't feel right anymore?

You say to yourself that she'll understand
or that it won't matter, given some time.
That giving her up will be nothing
you're 20
you're only young once
and girls like that come and go
come and go
never one or the other-
she will be nothing, in time,
but so will the hands you had on her
the feel of her skin underneath you,
that passion
the way she just knew you
the way she looked into your eyes
and smiled...
those sighs...

nothing.
It will all just fade into grey.

Then, when you're over and done with her
then you can take every step
like a man
and shake his hands
and call yourself cupid
and move on to spend that one full night
with a blonde in your arms,
wake up to her morning breath
just like you wanted.

Right?

No matter.
You have all the answers.
You know how to live your own life.




But I star six nined her number this morning
and thought of you.

02/10/2006

Posted on 02/11/2006
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia