It is funny how things,
such as this,
are brought up
at the worst
possible moment.
I find it funny
yet it is nothing
to laugh about.

The way I hurt myself
more
when I am already hurting.
The way I always feel like
I need to settle the score.

I have loved everyone
who has ever hurt me.
You know how they say
it is always someone
you know.

Perhaps I never felt
anything about it
because I brought it on
myself.
I have self-inflicted wounds
from every man
I’ve slept beside.

Not you, my purest
love;
you are who I dreamed
about
as I was drowning in the mud
of my own mistakes.

Maybe I never talked about it
because mean mommy
liked him
and it would’ve been
an embarrassment
for everyone to see it
just the same as me.

And maybe I never
thought about it
out of fear
that it might
actually hurt me-
but that was always the point.

There was never a reason.