The Worst Thing About This

“I wish i could put a chastity belt on myself
and give you the key
so you could see im not fucking anybody.
i am so, so sorry.
you’re the only one that i need.”

“Well im not going to fuck you again,
so as far as im concerned, feel free.”

i try to resist
asking the questions
“Where are you now?”
“What are you doing?”

because i know the answers
will be meaningless.
and i have all these
vicious daydreams
i don’t know why
you’re still writing
that might be
the very worst thing
about this-i keep trying
to see, whats the worst thing.
the worst was you leaving.
no, the worst was you staying
the worst was you
begging forgiveness
so desperately.
the worst was me
feeling sorry.
the worst is us
still talking.

when you speak,
i see lazy, warped bubbles
leaking out of your mouth
and floating sideways
i hear gurgling sounds
it’s feels like
we’re drowning.

you know,
you ruined everything
so why are we still talking?

“The food here is ok. im really sorry.”
“Good, im glad you like it. try not to choke,
or anything. see ya later, buddy.”

“I don’t want to hurt or offend you,
but I want to tell you the truth…”
“Well you’ve already done both
so whatever it is, just say it.”
“I still love you.”

So, now, on top of everything
I have to wonder what love really is.
and that is the worst thing.

8 thoughts on “The Worst Thing About This

    1. thanks for the encouragement, mark 🙂 ❤ at least something good is coming out of these experiences!

    1. in a friend’s photography class, the first assignment was to use a whole roll of film on a single flower, to get every perspective. id like to think thats what im doing with this situation. otherwise, id have to face the fact that ive probably written over 40 poems about this in the space of a few days. and i dont like facing facts.
      Thanks, Dennis. ❤
      as an athiest, its such a comfort to know there are people keeping an eye on me.

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