The words I needed to hear that day
and all the days after that,
were the words I never heard from you,
the words you never said.
But I told them to myself,
using your voice inside my head,
because I wanted to forgive
the fact that you let
someone else sleep in your bed.
Forgive and forget they say,
but both are easier said than done,
when the anxiety walks around all day,
posing a threat
with a metaphorical smoking gun,
with that gun pointed to your chest,
causing it to cave in and collapse.
But at least for now,
at least for a while,
the treat is gone,
and so is the anxiety
that has made its home in my lungs
and my chest can expand like a normal person,
and for now the pain won't worsen,
because that gun ran out of ammunition,
at least for a few days,
at least for a while.
I let myself fall back into the
trap,
because you came back,
right on cue,
and I repeat again,
the words that you never said,
using your voice inside my head,
"I'm sorry, I cheated on you."
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
The words I needed to hear that day
and all the days after that,
were the words I never heard from you,
the words you never said.
But I told them to myself,
using your voice inside my head,
because I wanted to forgive
the fact that you let
someone else sleep in your bed.
Forgive and forget they say,
but both are easier said than done,
when the anxiety walks around all day,
posing a threat
with a metaphorical smoking gun,
with that gun pointed to your chest,
causing it to cave in and collapse.
But at least for now,
at least for a while,
the treat is gone,
and so is the anxiety
that has made its home in my lungs
and my chest can expand like a normal person,
and for now the pain won't worsen,
because that gun ran out of ammunition,
at least for a few days,
at least for a while.
I let myself fall back into the
trap,
because you came back,
right on cue,
and I repeat again,
the words that you never said,
using your voice inside my head,
"I'm sorry, I cheated on you."
A poem ending in a Six Word Memoir
