Sometimes it’s easier to pretend.
Sometimes it easier to have a cold heart because those never need a mend.
Sometimes it’s lonely.
Sometimes it’s lonely having the greatest love, or so it seems.
Because from my soul are the constant screams.
Help me, see me.
And not who you chose to see over me.
And not her who took away all of our loyalty.
And not her who made it clear that there was another me.
Clearly, I was a fool.
And then I stayed a fool and stood by you when everyone said to run from you, but all I knew was that I loved you.
And that was enough for me.
And you loved me.
Or so it seemed.
I could have chosen better things, different things, a different something or someone.
But I wanted you.
Draped in your imperfections and your scars and the holy water that dripped from your hand in which you held someone else’s heart.
All you needed was me, unconditionally.
And all I had was you, with fine print.
I didn’t read the part that said our differences were great until you decided that they were not.
I didn’t read the line that states that I had to mold to your kind.
I missed the part that spelled out the meaning of love and security.
I overlooked the section that stated you could make love void and rid yourself of me.
I missed the scrutiny.
So forgive me for not holding your hand in the car because my mind could not stay out of the night in your car where she retrieved my number from your call log as you held her hand…in your car.
Forgive me for not holding you when my thoughts were wrapped up in the conversation she recorded of you while she held you and you denied that there was a me.
Please, forgive me.
Please forgive me for my reaction to the mention of September 10th that you so conveniently forgot when asked to recollect.
September 10th meant everything to me, but it meant nothing to your lying and your offsets and inability to confess our anniversary.
We won’t even see September 10th. So now it’s okay to forget.
You say I don’t want you. When the bleeding of my heart shows how badly I’ve fought for you.
You say I don’t love you. When she called my number and told me about your escapades and charades and still next to you I laid trying to keep control of what was left of me.
You don’t know the battle scars on my soul.
You don’t know the permanent crevices in my mind that had to make room time and time for when I mentally talked myself out of the negativity that was consuming me.
You don’t know.
And, yet, here I am.
I’m not always at my best.
But, I loved you in your mess; In spite of your mess; Pass your mess.
Which left me picking up pieces that I didn’t even break.
Carrying the burden of your mistake.
Because I was with you. And I expected nothing from you because the choice was the song I sang.
Did it count for anything?
No. And that’s a sad thing.
Yet, here I am.
Not knowing which way is up.
Trying not to even give a fuck, because that’s what you give. And this time it came wrapped in a bow.
And a show of emotions that dissipated quickly and a need and want for me that became empty.
And promises that never meant anything.
I was your “for good.”
Actually, I was your “for a while.”
That way, you never had to face the shame.
That way, equal is what you can make the blame.
Here I am.
Fighting a battle I was never intended to win.
Loving a person who never intended to defend me.
It was never we.
It was me and her and you and them and everything that never circled around to unity.
I wish I could love with conditions.
I wish I could feel with no intentions.
But that would change my core dimensions.
And not to mention, make me someone I don’t deserve to be.
So, may I have the attention of the line of things that have been patiently waiting for me.
I Told You So…here.