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Sick of Not Being a Priority

by Ame Ai

You're hard
to take.

All the times we cuddled,
All the times we shared a laugh,
All the times I massaged your scalp,
All the times I told you I loved you today,
Forgotten.

All the times you showed me what really mattered,
All the times you told me you loved only me,
All the times you surprised me with a gift,
All the times I kept you alive,
Forgotten.

Put below your blame,
Put below your faulty logic,
Put below your vengeance,
Put below your all caps,
Put below your easy state.

All our dreams of future potential,
Put below your grudges,
Put below the past.

This time
you want to do the talking,
all the talking.
Your only regret and fear is
not getting in the last word,
and it's not something you'd say on your deathbed.
You want to tell me I'm projecting,
screwed up,
sick.

for wanting respect,
for standing up for myself.

I'm sick

of this.

But I
Put up with it.
Put it above work.

You wanted the last word.
I wanted your attention,
to hear your voice,
to know that you're on the other end thinking of me,
to not say goodbye just yet.

You will remember me
as a monster.
I will remember you
as my love.
If that's sick, then I'm ill.
My illness is my cure.

01/09/2018

Posted on 01/09/2018
Copyright © 2018 Ame Ai

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/10/18 at 06:06 PM

A strong voice here, I admire the repetition which is kind of like nails pounding home the point. Your line spacing between "I'm sick" and "of this", another punch making sure you are being heard. Well done.

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