Friday 21 November 2014

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.