Waning

With your charm, I keep allowing you

To sleep in my bed

While I watch the condoms wane.

I climb in, next to the man that I once knew.

And then

We move

To different places

To different facebook statuses

You still demand

How are your plants you’re taking your knives perhaps you shouldn’t have left the couch remember that sleeping bag that you gave me because you'd like it back

While I wane

I find myself

Self publishing
Ceaseless questioning of memories jailed in my head

Not really?

You didn’t really?

But you really did.

And I’m alone
And I can't hate you. Despite what they tell me to do. 

And now your Facebook status reads differently

And I’m alone

Without all of it

I walk home differently

I walk home. So much alone. So freed. With jailed memories. And I don’t think you care. Because you have your knives and your sleeping bag and your answers and your new woman and your forgiveness.

And I have

Memories

Of two years

Of climbing into bed

Next to you

Knowing

What I just read on your phone.
Of watching the condoms wane. 



*Actually, this wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Given the amount of alcohol in me when written and how little I remembered of it (nothing) and how long it took me to brave looking (2 weeks). Could be A LOT better though. I'll keep trying.