You ****** someone else.

"Don't say that, you're berating me!"

So I can't talk frankly about
what you've done? What
the **** am I supposed to say?

"Call it 'an affair'!"

But you let some other guy
*******
(more than once).
I can't talk frankly about it?
About how you let another man
enter you?

"*******!"

And the door slams.

And the car drives away.

And I feel a weight lift off of me.

And like that,
the switch
in my head
in my heart
is, somehow, impossibly,
flipped to "off"

You should have
hit the light switch
as you left, cursing me.

Empty me out
blood,
to the floor.

Open my veins,
hung from the door.

A way to sing the praise
of rotting memories
without the tears
without the years
without the tears
without the years

...

you could come
if you choose.

Don't think I dont know.

The music isn't a magnet,
it's an escape.

Conquistador
claiming you
night after night.

In those hot and
cool May and June nights.

How much could mean
nothing?

In memoria,
our ashes sing
songs of sadness.