many’s the time when i was younger that i wished to write you a letter containing all my pent-up psyched-out love
for you
only i knew i’d never mail it because i wasn’t that kind of a daring bold girl with no finer scruples to be overcome
by you
especially because you weren’t that kind of boy then and i both trusted and was afraid of you without knowing why
only i did
i could have ruined a friendship because of my utter unwarranted unreturned unreasonable stupidness over you
maybe i did
now we’ve all moved on and up but you’re the one left behind to drown in the dust of your own gray powdery ashes
someday
you broke her heart and i pray he’ll break your soul so you can finally see what you’re doing and killing what i killed
yesterday
time wounds all heels and heals all wounds i’ve heard tell in songs and rhymes like the pretty thing you wrote once
for someone
yes i was jealous and angry and bitter and empty but now i’m a just little numb in the spot that used to harp on you
her someone
—
and i’ve run out of words
imagine that
fake drops of blood
on a page
bleeding the lies out
what’s wrong with that?
there was some truth
just a hint
a mere speck
—
some things
weren’t meant to be
you and me
for instance
and the general state of dull pain brought on by the sins of fallen man living like there’s no hope for tomorrow
—
the sorrow
is unbearable sometimes
but i
can’t hold it
for you
nor can she
nor you, even
a rebel without
clear-eyed sight so sought after once
and to think you already
know the answer
you just won’t
put down your weapons
and surrender
