i am solely to blame. Such a vision i was, on my scabbing knees, begging for tears to come so ink could set into 99 cent paper. this gift, this ailment, i asked for it with all of me, and now with my severed strings and my miscalculations, i am reduced to lonely gasps in the back room.
in each swaying movement of my hopeful forgiveness, my cerebellum screams back at me what i already know:
"HE CAN'T LOVE YOU."
well, i know, i know, i know. but i will give into the pretty apologies; "bring your body back to mine." i will, of course, despite the shame it will take to peel off my clothes and say goodnight.
the great irony of my wishful-thinking optimistic curses is how fast i will fall into the confusion of a seasons change.
fall: i will, for a little while.
winter: forget my face.
spring: i'm here, if you need me.
summer: i want to come home to your storm
now press the repeat button on my forehead and you may continue to humiliate me, isn't that what you said i deserved?
next to you is a song i keep singing, a word on the tip of my tongue, or the fire alarm across the street. and i'm tired because it's nearly fall and we spent too much time in bed--"it's been you all along, please believe me, what was her name again?"--convincing each other of things we both know are false. and i will sit here and listen for as long as it takes you to convince me that i am not worth trusting or loving, i swear i will listen. your words sound like the sea and i just want to split that bottom lip in two.
now i ask as you stand to leave, "how am i supposed to feel when you're not here?" Well, i promise to go out quietly, and i promise i will be here waiting when you come back for me.
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