I know you don’t care much
for my kind, but please
spare me. I have little time left
for the type of nonsense we had originally
invested so much of ourselves in,
it just isn’t worth divulging anymore,
or indugling, dependent of how we were
lying down, and when,
the street corners had some sort of significance.
But isn’t that it had always been between us?
Me the wanting fool and you the harlot?
Oh now, don’t blush, dont be angry,
it was what it was, and you standing before me
glaring doesn’t change anything at all,
written in stone. As you well know,
I was always a bit block headed,
one of my most admireable traits. It kept us going
for longer than it should have, quite drained me
of my senses, little left now, just floating about,
I have a better understanding of crackling leaves,
let me tell you, a kinship. In the wind
dry and hollow. I could write
a thesis on it, quite a dissertation, it would take me
years to get it right, but i’d be mostly writing all that
time: that’s how much I could say about it, and without need
of defense, what you had done to me
is solely in my head, not yours, neither anyone else’s
for that matter, and so, no board to present it to,
just maybe a set of chafed knukles and fingerbits. Strained
through the floorboards, with my ear to floor, i’d find myself
like that, no clue as to why, you didn’t even live
underneath me anymore, the pun is
“that I had hoped you were dead and you were sent straight to hell”,
despite my anxiety, and you smiling just seconds before.
You shouldn’t have called out my name,
just let me keep walking into familiar ground, let me stumble
as I have been. It isn’t too much to ask for, is it?
Just one of those pipedreams I suppose.