Honey, I
Both envy and
Hate
Your exes,
Though they may only be but
A letter to
You now.

I hate, hate, hate
Everyone who
Found you and had the
Chance
To explore you
Before I could have ever
Known.

Though you would not
Be who you are now,
and I know I am being
irrational,
but I never wanted to be
Christopher Columbus
“Discovering” your land.

Maybe, though,
For once in my life,
My lateness to the game
Is not actually a bout of
bad-timing
But actually the
Perfect point
To have entered,
For it seems I am
Winning
Whereat which I would
Usually
Strike out.

Oh, honey, I
Am still jealous and
Spiteful
Of all those boys;
They were pirates
For your
Innocence and
Your willingness to lend
A helping heart
Plunderers
Of your love
Thieves
Of your breath
Your kiss,
The vulnerability
Of your body which I
Now embrace,
They were waste bins
For your time
For your energy
For your senses

And even though you showed
Most of them
False emotion
Handed many
A replica of
A genuine smile,
Some still got through
Your breastplate
Dealt you plenty a blow
and painted your
organs black
with scars and tar
but yes, you do
Still
Have a heart,
and yes
it is red
and steadily pumping
somewhere in the pitch dark

Honey, I
Do not pity those fools
For I know what we are is
True
A delicate rarity for you

As well for myself, I can safely say
I will be
your alphabet
Starting with
“A”
Any number you can imagine
Stretching any direction from zero
In any combination,
All expressions and equations,
Your mathematic hero

Although I’m
Tardy to the party (if you’ll pardon the cliché)
It seems
It’s prime time
For us to trip and fall—
And that’s…that’s just A-Okay
(If you’ll pardon the cliché)!