you stopped putting on makeup
to go to work and the grocery
then didn’t even bother to put
it on to go out to the clubs
then stopped going to the clubs
and traded your jeans and “boob shirts”
for pajama bottoms and fuzzy slippers
you start sitting on your bed with
your phone on the pillow, waiting
for a call that will never come
then you turn the phone off so
it can stop mocking you with its
“you have no new messages”
heartless condemnations
you lower your standards from
John Cusack to the guy who smiles
on the show on Discovery
hoping he’s still single because
otherwise, that would ruin the
fantasy of becoming yours

because you’ve been the
dirty little secret and
the rebound and the
one night stand
and the message that
was certainly deleted
when your number
showed up on caller id
you’ve been let’s just be
friended and this isn’t
going to worked and
fucked until they don’t
want you anymore
you’ve given strings-free
blowjobs and whored
yourself out, hoping it
might blossom into
something of worth
but it never does
it never does.

and you know that
but you can’t help but hope
that maybe, one day, you
can stop seeking and be
sought after that maybe,
one day, he might start
listening to the messages
that maybe, one day, you
won’t have to wake up alone
and that maybe, one day,
you can tell stories of how
you met and how you knew
it was right and mindlessly
flip through photo albums
in the breakfast nook where
your college bound baby
said his first word but the
clouds continue to gather
just above your head

and you know that
but you can’t help
but wonder when
Brad will realize
he’s still in love
with Jennifer.

07/10/2006

Author's Note: I know this is disjointed and quite awful. but it is what it is.

Posted on 07/10/2006
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