he begs and he pleads
a boy who doesn't know what he wants
and if I want to be used
who am I to deprive an addict
what's a little money,
what's a little fix
to someone who is eager to give?
it's a cruel dichotomy,
the two of us dancing in different time
i do my best at the waltz
while you step in the past
not a symphony,
no harmony,
pure cacophony

sitting behind this white dodge caravan.
between the rain and the burst of the red stop light in front of me,
a reminder of an unscheduled opthalmologist appointment,
I can't see a thing.
I wonder what the driver would think if I pulled my car in front of him,
swerving over from the turn lane,
and speeding through the intersection.
would they curse at the rainwater I sent splashing on to their car?
the liquid connecting with a crash so loud they might flinch.
and when they heard my engine rev,
six cylinders,
0-60 just like that,
would they think me a drunk?
a fool?
an impatient, reckless, mess of a driver?
and would they be wrong, regardless?
but tonight it feels like I've never been more sober,
aware in away that makes my skin itch.
maybe it's the weather, I might wonder, knowing it isn't.
and when the light finally turns green,
after what might've been an eternity or just a few seconds,
and they drive past the scene of the accident,
would they think
"she deserved it".

i watched something that made me think of you
though you would not like the comparison
i heard something that reminded me of you
a song you showed me
you don't write me anymore
and I don't want you to
but I almost wish you would
i used to catch the glint of your eyes at the edge of my open window
"I can still see you even though you try to hide" you used to taunt
maybe you watched something that reminded you of me
I hope it was flattering
though I'm sure it wasn't
when you look towards the unsettled sea
is there a glimpse of the blue in my eyes
my laugh in the endless call of the seagulls
my heartbeat in the footsteps along the boardwalk
in the irritation from the sand caught in your sandals
in the pungent stench of saltwater that permeates the skin
part of me hoping it's you that I haunt

I could kiss your forehead
like you do to me
but I'd be confirming something
that isn't true
some kind of fallacy
an if:then statement
that seems simpler than it is
I keep myself at a distance that should be comfortable
close enough to touch you
but not close enough to mean anything
your fingers are stained by another
and mine are clean
manicured
pristine
but I cling to you
fingers tracing circles along your body
nails digging into your skin
and maybe you're tainting me
infecting me with your sickness
plagued by you
by something that exists without a cure
so I will have to endure
something I should be adept at by now
but you keep finding new ways to inflict pain on me
something with which I will have to make do
I want you to hate me
I think I need it
there's not another way I can see myself getting though this
hurt me and I'll hurt you
and I'll keep hurting you to the point of no return

my cat has become rather partial to you
and so have I
white fur on black clothes
it's glaring
a part of me that you can't get rid of
you'll wear me on your sleeve
and wherever else
so I'll wear you down
like a mortar and pestle
grinding and churning
you'll try to hide me
my bits and pieces strewn about in your wake
treading through in your thick boots
picking parts of me up only when you want them
but I need them
I'm lost without them
my replacement parts
and the greediness with which you handle them

sleeping with the door open
hoping you'll come waltzing in
despite how last night I pushed you away
raised my voice and told you
how I didn't want you to touch me
but you asked "why?"
and I'm asking why that isn't enough
because my voice didn't falter
and it's the edge of my bed that I'm sleeping on
the bed that you waltzed into
where you raised your voice at me
called me a hypocrite
for something that you've done tenfold
so why do you have the right to hurt
when you so easily mock my pain
spit it back in my face
and you don't see it
I don't think you even try
you don't want to see it
even when you're watching me cry
I still want to see you
despite it

I asked if you were trying to make me hate you
and you replied "maybe"
it's funny because
I've been trying to make you feel something for me
maybe love or desire,
but mostly hate
I wish you could despise me
it would be easier
to throw the blame on me
a blanket not warmed by another body
heated instead by the ire that you held for me
but we're in limbo
and still you hold me
each of us wanting something that neither can give
please don't touch me
and I won't touch you
even if I want to
and we'll get over it
we will.
we will get over it.
I swear that I'll get over it.