Lovers, 23

I’d be egotistic today and say,

It feels like I’ve gone through all your phases.

From the giddy, innocent, high.

To the spiteful, colder than the dead, lows.

To what the hell is going on right now.

Until we’ve come to this: a truce.

Funny how there’s pain, but not enough.

A tug at my attention – like a pinch – but it doesn’t hold.

Making me reflect on my mistakes, and promise to be better
next time.

Maybe I should shed a tear for old time’s sake?

It’s been so long since I’ve cried in behalf of your name.

Are you tired of me saying that this is what I want?

I have it on a list.

It’s incontestible.

It’s done.

But hand it to me in a silver platter and it’ll feel like I
don’t deserve it.

That I don’t really want it, I mean. Or maybe I do.

Just not quite from him.

No, not from him too.

Now it’s out in the open – who we actually are.

And we see what we have for what it surely is.

It’s liberating, honestly, to know all along

That you are not all that there is.

That it’s a cruel cycle of hit and miss.

It’s just extremely, incredibly nice to know.

It was always nice to know you.

Oh how you come and go.