may 2008

hide and seek

the truth is–
in less than valiant attempts to appear a good friend (because you know, i could care less whether i really am, as i am

—a cynic, and know that you are not really my

friend anyway
)

i smile, watching you share stupid (really stupid) jokes/sloppy joe kissessecret looks that piss me off to watch;
you don’t see me clench my fists beneath the table because i’m supposed to be the one whose arms clasp your luscious (babealicious!) body to my ImPerFecT* ignore my ****

(cunt)

, i am laughing along with your jokes that make no sense

(hmmm what did she say)

, i am holding your hand while you cry for him.

, i am smiling as i watch you in his arms

, i am holding your hand while you cry for him, Dr. Phil on Wheels imparting advice “it’ll happen when it’s ready i’m sure yes of course you know that as well as i do be patient” (me, advising patience? what bullshit
)

(ooh, what you say)

and you are oblivious to how i glare at him.
you are blind to how he looks in my direction back off bitch lasers boring into my shoulders so i slump further than usual.

(it’s all for the best, because it is)

— the truth
the truth
the… the truth is

(the dark has only begun to fall)

I DON’T.

(the doctor is in. show me your scars.)

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child in a moment

(should i be ashamed to admit that)
i wish my mother had held me as tightly
as paper once held the candy she’s suckling,
like the baby-in-a-basket case she is become?

and it sounds silly, i know
but the ache is louder even than the crackle of another bonbon unwrapped.

i think i might be crazy,
but for a moment i wonder if i might be loved someday
if suddenly i were peach-flavored

may eighth: aha!

late Thursday afternoon,
after I had pondered the meaning of the blue choir-boy gown
and satiny orange sash with its four numbers embroidered at the bottom–
sitting outside in the heat and the soft setting sun,
I pulled up weeds/flowers.

they smelled sweet.
they brought memories tumbling into my head,
and so I sat waxing nostalgic–
until some woman in a creamy gold car pulled up to the curb,
idling long enough for us to know each other–
and for me to learn that she did not consider boys
who picked weeds/flowers in their front yards barescarredfoot to be normal,
and that I did not like her taste in music

whoever said cheaters never prosper didn’t tell the whole truth

it’s not because we want to
not because we need to,
it’s not that we have to–
it’s simply that we do;

there’s no premeditation,
no moment’s hesitation,
granted, consideration is sorely lacking, too–

you may not understand this,
not keen to lend forgiveness,
but trust me when i say this:
we honestly love you.

this is nothing to do with love,
there’s nothing that we’re thinking of–
in fact, it’s almost an afterthought,
until the moment after:

the moment you open the door,
and one of us cries out for more
you’re frozen. speechless. no encore
is needed in this disaster.

the only thing left now to do
is take the time to decide if you
believe that time can mend this–
or is it time to end this?

this is where we beg (beg)
this is when we cry (cry)
“without you life is meaningless;
without you I will die.”

your broken heart,
your broken home.
your broken dreams.
what’s left to hold?

(faith, faith, faith)

now the hand (the cock) has dealt its blow
shaken today, faint tomorrow–
do you believe? where do you go
from here?

do you forgive? (never forget)
and do you love? (so much regret)
but more than anything: can you go through this again,
or will you leave?