And in that moment of weakness,
I felt like I was actually living.
I cried in sporadic little ways,
Short bursts,
And tightened breaths.
But understanding that I really felt nothing at all,
Besides that burning guilt deep in my stomach.
Ill with the thought that I could have been loved,
Without returning even an ounce of respect.
Lingering on the memories,
Of holding you out in front of me like a ******* sideshow act freak,
Thinking how much better than you I was.
At least,
Above you on the fight or flight food chain.
You escaped life,
I would become a hunter.
You were the hunted,
Prey to the outside world,
Which you were so convinced had forgotten you at the bus stop,
Forgotten your name as you became a sandwhiched child.
I watched you eat in disgust,
And as you gobbled down your meal
With your arms pooling around your thick body,
My smiling face was resting
In the front pocket of your wallet.
A simple reminder that you maybe had a family.
Neither of us believed in a God,
So I cant pray that your soul is resting ignorant of
My Judgement,
And your eyes,
Cannot look into mine as I tell you,
That the hours I wasted feeding into your addiction,
Through my pulse-less smile,
Was my adolescent mistake.
I wish to hug you now,
Hold you as I held your weeping parents.
I thought you were pathetic.
Yet the distance I kept from you was the very definition of weakness
I had been so sure didn’t rest in me,
While I pretended it was only filling you out.
The only goodbye I can offer,
Even attempt,
Is that the next face,
Next hundred faces,
Next thousand,
Will only recognize love
In the hand, my hand,
That reaches for them.
