Time takes
this pain
and replaces
it with an anger
that maims,
a mood that blames
you
for the weird thing you do.

Never been
more than friends,
but I was hoping
you would dump
those violent
cheating men.

You spent hours
telling me
all about their
cruelty.
How they make you
wonder why
you attract
those kind of guys,
the ones who lie
and lay hands on you.

Meanwhile,
I stop by
when you call me.
When I hear you cry
I play the nice guy
comfort and cradle
the cracked heart,
till you are able
to walk yourself
right on to the next
abusive ex.

Each time
I find my mind
darkened by
thoughts of
self-hate
wondering how bad
I must be
for you to see
sociopathic
sexist
violent men
as a better and
more attractive
alternative then me.

So, I try to move on
until you come along,
say that you miss me
ask me to go to the movies,
and I just jump
right back in.