What did that look mean
when you glanced at me like that?
Yes, it was true,
another person's lips had grazed mine
when you left me the first time,
and now that you'd come back,
you seemed to know something I didn't.
I hadn't lied
when I told you that
your lips felt right against my own
and his smokey breath did not,
and then the secret you had held was revealed
only slightly, of course,
and I didn't even notice.
When I told you that
I had wished I was kissing you instead,
what I had first thought was a look of love
was actually your look of embarrassment and shame
and this was because, you too, were a man with a smokey breath,
leaving imprints of your lips on another's
long before we had parted ways.
So, it wasn't her who kissed you first;
you filthy little liar,
and you were starting to feel bad
about what you had done.
I was none the wiser,
and sympathized with you,
thinking you too had felt like me,
a big misunderstanding between two people
and that you'd come back to me
because you realized my lips were better than another's,
not that you liked the idea
of getting away with infidelity
and then rushing back into my arms.
I always missed these signs,
and it eats away at me now
when I think about how many
times I should have known.
I've decided to explore my flashbacks in poems just as a way to get them out of my head because I'm so sick and tired of them being there. There's a lot of these that I think I should have written about ages ago, but I just kept repressing the memories before I could think critically about them. Here's to taking my baby steps forward. 3 years and I'm still processing this.
