What do you want from me?
Why must I come to this place that WE call home daily to the same deserted feelings and expect for LOVE to await my arrival on the couch with a fruit basket? I do not even LIKE fruit, or that you sit there with a grin that spites my very presence and somehow I should support being optimistic?!?!
I would rather bite my cuticles until I expose a trail of a defeatist attitude that triumphed over a sense of normalcy while dancing among a nail bed that gets more passion from a clear coat than you EVER touching me!
Why bother express these things to you, when you rather argue like strangers in a distance to some onlooker who can barely decipher right from wrong; yet you insist they are a friend who only wants what is BEST for us? Pardon my laughter to stop from crying, so you may understand for a time that I am not out to get you, demean you nor belittle you but damn if you cannot find it in YOU to appreciate silence long enough for me to even speak these words that you cradle to ignore.
Wait, wait?! Why walk away when I am speaking??
Come back and face facts that flaunt arrogance and tact; I sat there like a child in school awaiting their next lesson as you spoke with conviction of my flaws and you cannot give me five minutes of YOUR time? Do not fear that I will utter a word of where you went wrong in us, for that is unlikely. You love to remind me that God has made you “perfect” in every way, so let me only tell tales of where I went wrong in hopes that you might weld together your own broken links.
Foolish was I to think time and space was what you required to better understand us. So yes, I should take the time to appreciate you when you are both lost and found. Shame on me for caring too much of your whereabouts after midnight until the sun rises, as you come strolling back into my life. Creeping back into our bed still reeking of last nights havoc and stale cigarettes that have yet to fade from your pores and late nights lust that stinks of degrading filth. Where and when is it ever my place to speak such things before you?
Allow me to douse these flames that drift us apart and embrace the fact that WE were never meant to be and so I bow out gracefully; spoils go to the victor!
Written by: Daymon Patterson