For the Record by Anne Di Baguette
(lFor the record, what record or whose doesn’t matter
that elusive running tab of accusation and retribution
documented with appropriate footnotes
categorized for small minds like mine,
filed with other miscellaneous ends
to be stirred through occasionally,
discarding memories of lesser value
For the record they were never
randomly tossed or loosely tied;
they were not assembly-line sentiments
They were conceived unbidden,
denied, fought and rationalized against.
Perhaps the lesson was in
my own stubborn self-righteousness,
my idealistic that-could-never-happen-to-me blind sightedness
But the meaning behind the words were real.
And that’s about it, for the record. Except,
fuck you, for indulging yourself in every
escalating tirade of words and emotion and manipulation
but allowing me nothing, for turning your back, for walking out,
for pretending we never happened, for not giving a damn
For the motherfucking record, fuck you for breaking my heart 01/11/2003 Posted on 11/30/2017 Copyright © 2025 Anne Di Baguette
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