12:41 Saturday October 20
sometimes it still hurts.
but sometimes, when i think about everything in context
i get so angry i want to shoot you in the forehead with a bullet
made of the engagement ring you bought me
after asking me for the third time. lying to me
for the third time.
and you left our three year relationship via email
while at work
and then had a snuggle date with another woman
i hope you crawl into bed with the kind of person i warned you against
and i hope they destroy you.
you love to point the finger of blame at anyone but you
and yet yeah, you know, i'm going to say it- you held me back.
i used to reassure you that you weren't boring, but really
you seem devoted to being so- without drive, without hobbies.
your hobby was *me*. how desperate is that?
you were lucky to be taken in by me, trained so you could fly
a bird broken by a mother who likes you best with your wings clipped
i showed you that you could be a falcon, not a finch
and you decided to go back to the safety of your cage
because it's hard to grow and change
and it's hard to learn not to hit girls but to use your words instead
and it must be really hard to have to balance your feminist cred
with your unexamined behaviours
i kept quiet because i didn't want either of us to be embarassed
how cliche is that
as per usual, you throw your hands up and say i misunderstand you
well, baby, that's why i kept everything on record
because when i'd say "don't stick your dick in that girl please"
and you'd whine "she controls who i can be friends with"
you're not really being upfront. no surprise
you always loved playing martyr. loved making me angry
then begging me to punch you in the face
to redeem you.
sure, it makes me sick that the friends i introduced to you
the world i showed you
still embraces you now- i made you what you are
but they'll learn, i expect
when you no longer have someone to hide behind
and if they don't
well, they deserve the hassle of taking care of you
let them bottle feed you and change your diaper
you're a colicky baby with a lot of needs
good luck keeping up your facade
i hope you make it on your own
evolve or die, kid
you were never good under pressure
this poem is meant to do harm
here's a knife
let me stick it in
or even better
do it to yourself
and blame it on me
you always were a masochist
always liked it
when i licked your tears
and spat them back at you
i bet you're reading this even now