I hate when I dream about you,
waking up with your face bright in my vision,
like the cold edge of the knife you buried in me.
secrets, years, and conversations wasted
these scars you carved upon my psyche.
wasted on loving you, and you know
I was the only one who ever really did.
I am still the only one who ever really knew you.
And I have shut the door on best friends, on women, on trusting
because I gave you that one last chance to be loved
that night in a pool we broke into by tradition
over screwdrivers and cigarettes
we sank chairs into the shallow end, floating our glasses on the moonlight
sharing a dream of some future
it was just another night where you looked me in the eyes with a promise and I believed you.
all those empty words, empty nights.
and it ended with me,
crying in the floor of the apartment I paid for that you left me in
crying because I had believed in you, in us
crying because you expected me to clean up your mess anyway,
again,
but for the last time.
The morning after I went to the shop, I had her ink the words on my wrists as a reminder,
the antithesis of you.
honesty & compassion.
sometimes I wonder if you’ll ever truly know their meaning.
Do you remember?
Our eyes so wide in the park, God that night glitters in my imagination.
What you said, what I said. The way you kissed me.
I hope every day that we spent together is burned into your memory as vividly as your betrayal is burned into mine,
I wish that I could forget.
But mostly I wish that I could forgive myself for letting you take so much of me.
