What Got Broke in the Split

When I said goodbye,
it meant forever, in my eyes.
Served up genial platitudes-
none which appeased you,
so you unleashed your anger
under a lover’s guise.

The stains of your heavy pours,
hearty appetite still dress my floors.
From its hinges sags the fractured door
through which your foot hastily tore.
Those to whom your version of truth you swore?
No, they do not come by anymore.

Though the aftermath of this wreck
weighed down my heart,
you were not enough to break it;
I refuse to succumb to your debt.
I can replace all nondescript
casualties left in your wake.

Strange Wanting

Your lips parted to speak
drawing my own lips to slowly creep,
to part and expose my teeth
in a expectant smile. But suddenly
I notice your arm extended,
your hand in pose to greet
in your voice a pleasantry
“It’s so nice to meet…”
as clearly you do not remember me.

Blood rushes to my cheeks
as my memory has not failed me.
I “know” you, at least recall meeting.
Yet I am a stranger to this Adonis
who many times before has met me.
I should excuse it; we met in a crowd.
I had hoped that I somehow stood out.

On Tasting Forbidden Fruits

No act of redemption is this.
By sheer coincidence
the encounter transgressed,
and, initially, was humorous-
Your actions had indeed abhorred me
though not enough to consider this
a plausible option- to seek vengeance
against you, the heinous bitch
who dared to call me her best
while still seeking attention from my own ex.
I nearly pitied you when this one left
because he seems worthy of your regret
but, now, as feelings are explored
this chance meeting, that you feared
perhaps even haphazardly predicted
might just slowly escalate to my own bliss.
For I find that what we both dismissed
has provided a favorable condition
for us to carefully explore each other’s lips-
finally share that once forbidden kiss.

Bleeding Stains

The touch, though at first felt new,
was much too familiar, and that scent?
I was quick to recall it, too
as I plunged tight-lipped
to the bottom of that last bottle.
Came up slightly stained,
engorged, spent, gasping for air-
and each labored breath an effort to
breathe life into the abandoned seed
we never let take root, or perhaps,
it was to give birth to something new.

And it may have been the last time-
at least for many months to come
if what I had done next
in fact chanced to leave alone.
But my shame stained lips
would eventually swell,
spread to these hips,
and, in time, would tell
of just how easily plans,
and those left unmade, both fail.

What is Wrong with a Short Fall

Every time
it is up to me
to see it through,
but every once in a while, too
it is up to you
to remind me how, to prove
that every good thing
came from waiting
when waiting on the wanting
oft seemed to fall through.
For when my fall fell short
it found me wanting you.

What Hurt Most was Losing You, Not Him

Perhaps silence will not help you see your mistakes,
but by the error of your ways, I could no longer fake
this friendship you left sinking to gain attention
from the one person you dared to mention
in the wake of his final vacation from my life.
Your questions were out of sync
with the appropriate, genuine concerns
of someone who spent a great deal of time
crying on my shoulder when your own heart was rocked
time and again by parades of men
who refused to love you
after just one night or, at most, two.
Not that I fully intend to discredit your being- or even your feelings.
I know it is hard to face the fallout of your choices
but if you had, even just once,
acted more out of concern for friends
as they repeatedly had for you
than on your own selfish desires,
these lines need not be necessary.
But, you see, you dared to prove
that, like those men who rejected you,
my friendship was worth
as little as you put in, in the end.
Asking where I had been,
spying on me for him, for attention
appears truly more validating for you
than making sure a friend’s heart
was on the mend.