I wanted to write one last poem about the Very Important Things
and be done.
You fathered a child with someone else when we were planning a life together.
You made me crouch crying and screaming in a shower stall
more nights in a row than I care to remember.
You made me trust you and three months later we were through.
You made me more defenseless and bewildered than I’ve ever been.
You took away all of my ends-in-sight.
I wanted to give you Very Good Advice.
Be content with what I’m giving you now.
Realize it's more than you deserve.
Stop telling me you’re sorry.
Stop telling me you will do better next time.
I wanted you to know I would never allow there to be
a next time.
I wanted to throw parenthesis and periods at your face
I wanted to keep the commas for someone else.
I wanted to sum things up, and move on to other poems.
I hoped you would ignore the words I had to keep eating.
I hoped you wouldn't read more into it
than I was sure I meant.
I hoped I was overestimating your worth.
I hoped I would come to that conclusion
as soon as possible.
My words fell apart three-fourths of the way through.
My Very Important Things stopped seeming so important after all.
My no-strings-attached wasn't working for you.
You took my conclusions and added paragraphs.
You've outlasted all of my commas.
You made me want to write a thousand To-Be-Continued’s.
You made me realize
Whatever poem I’m writing for you
Is not yet complete.
and be done.
You fathered a child with someone else when we were planning a life together.
You made me crouch crying and screaming in a shower stall
more nights in a row than I care to remember.
You made me trust you and three months later we were through.
You made me more defenseless and bewildered than I’ve ever been.
You took away all of my ends-in-sight.
I wanted to give you Very Good Advice.
Be content with what I’m giving you now.
Realize it's more than you deserve.
Stop telling me you’re sorry.
Stop telling me you will do better next time.
I wanted you to know I would never allow there to be
a next time.
I wanted to throw parenthesis and periods at your face
I wanted to keep the commas for someone else.
I wanted to sum things up, and move on to other poems.
I hoped you would ignore the words I had to keep eating.
I hoped you wouldn't read more into it
than I was sure I meant.
I hoped I was overestimating your worth.
I hoped I would come to that conclusion
as soon as possible.
My words fell apart three-fourths of the way through.
My Very Important Things stopped seeming so important after all.
My no-strings-attached wasn't working for you.
You took my conclusions and added paragraphs.
You've outlasted all of my commas.
You made me want to write a thousand To-Be-Continued’s.
You made me realize
Whatever poem I’m writing for you
Is not yet complete.
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